


What Do You Want

by knightotter



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 61,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6012625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightotter/pseuds/knightotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel of sorts- Gansey lives with Ronan at the Barns before Monmouth. They become friends quickly and search for Glendower and Kavinsky is in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ronan shivered outside, hands in pockets, sitting on the stone wall outside Aglionby Academy. He stupidly left his jacket at home that morning, thinking it would be sunny in warm in the first few days of spring. Henrietta went from picturesque snow white hills to a muddy valley overnight after the first real rainstorm of the year. Ronan's boots were stained with fresh mud from the short walk across the campus. He had remembered his sweater, but it wasn't enough in the cooling evening air. Cold prickled at his skin, creeping under his collar, over his wrists, through his hair, trying to hold on to what winter felt like. 

His bag of workout clothes and tennis equipment rested on the ground below his feet. He wished practice would go a little longer, anything to keep the warmth, but coach kicked them out at 8pm sharp. Declan dropped him off at school and Ronan was meant to find someone to take him home. He hadn't asked anyone.

A white car pulled up to the curb and the passenger window rolled down. "How much for the night, babe?"

Ronan jumped from the wall and picked up his bag, tossing it in the back seat. Someone grunted and shoved it across the seat. Ronan got in the front seat, immediately breathing in the heavy smoke from Kavinsky's cigarette. "God, you smell."

"Hello to you too, Mr. Lynch." K flicked ash onto Ronan's lap.

The car took off down the road at a speed that should have made anyone with a rational sense of safety reach for the seatbelt, but of course, K had taken them out as soon as he got the car. None of the passengers even flinched as they passed stop signs and nearly missed a few pedestrians with arms full of groceries. In record time and with no casualties, K got them to the interstate.

The exits on the highway zipped by in a blur. Ronan reached for the heater and turned it as high as it would go. He aimed the vents toward his face and relaxed into his seat.

From the backseat, Swan groaned. "It's hot back here."

"Go cry about it, ass." K swiftly responded, and then, in a childish voice, "Baby's cold."

"I told you to stop calling me that." Ronan said.

"Did Dick claim that nickname too?"

"I barely know him. And he goes by Gansey." 

Kavinsky rolled his eyes and slapped on the radio to a foreign song with heavy bass and likely inappropriate lyrics. 

The boys kept quiet as they raced down the highway, passing cars and poorly lit gas stations and rest stops. Ronan kicked his feet up to the dashboard, bringing his knees close to his chest. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back. He watched lazily as K didn't slow down past his exit.

"You missed the turn." He said.

"When you asked for a ride, you didn't say where." Kavinsky tapped his temple. " 'Sides, I got places to be."

Swan shifted in his spot, snorted and coughed twice. "It's true."

Kavinsky swung his head around. "Dammit, Swan, I told you to stay out of my stash." The car swerved to the side as K reached an arm back and slapped a bag with a grayish powder in it out of Swan's shaking hand. "Next time pay me or get your own, dickwad."

The car righted itself in the lane and in the side mirror, Ronan saw Swan plugging his nose as if he'd inhaled wrong. Swan's eyes were watering, the tops of his ears and edges of his cheeks red as a tomato. Ronan had never gotten into whatever drugs K had started now. Last month it had been an incredible white pill that Skov had so brilliantly explained when he said "it's like being a noodle in water." When K took three at once, followed by four shots of vodka and an entire beer and then insisted he could still drive Ronan home, Ronan had to wrestle him out of the driver's seat because, first of all, he kept stalling the car and was reaching for something on the far side of the dashboard that wasn't there.

Ronan was still cold. The last light of day was failing, drawing out the hard lines in Kavinsky's face and the undeniable greasiness in Swan's hair. In the last year, the oldest Lynch brothers deemed themselves too cool for Aurora's hand-knitted gloves and hats, though Ronan had recently taken to wearing a soft beanie that smashed down his dark and wild hair. When Kavinsky was in one of his moods, or high on something, or sober, or just wanted to be a shit, he stole it off Ronan's head and either wore it himself or returned it days later, smelling of sweat.

"How come I've never been to your place?" K's voice was low and smoky as he exhaled, barely audible over the rap in some eastern European language.

Ronan closed his eyes. "There's a strict no drugs policy."

K laughed once, taking another drag. "And how come you're so sure that Dick isn't?"

"Gansey," Ronan enunciated with a touch of annoyance, "has a stick so far up his ass he's almost a tree. He wanted homework. One time. I gave him the assignment."

"Because you are the star student of Aglionby." He sang, flicking ash onto Ronan's knees. "Line up colleges, we've got ourselves a kid who does homework."

Ronan put his feet down, thinking of the stack of mail on the counter with professional ink and important-looking crests for fancy schools, all listed with Declan's name. Every day the pile grew, and Declan had barely looked at it except to shove it to the side and make room for a plate of food. 

"I'm tired." Ronan announced. "Take me back."

Kavinsky rolled down the window and threw the butt end of his cigarette out. The wind from their still dangerously high speed swept out some smoke and Ronan took a slow breath. 

"I'll have you back before nine, don't worry, babe."

"It's almost 8:30."

"A-M." He spelled the letters slowly. "Wouldn't want our star student missing class now." 

Kavinsky's hand drifted down the stick shift, curling around it tightly in an innuendo not lost on Ronan. He refused to acknowledge it. 

"Want a light? I'm trying to kick the habit." He said with a smirk. 

Swan coughed from behind them. "He just said his parents have a strict no drugs policy, God, weren't you listening?"

"I wasn't asking you." K's thumb lifted off the shift and his hand slipped up and down once, again consuming all of Ronan's thoughts. "Mama's not gonna notice."

"Maybe not your mom." Ronan snapped. "Pull over."

"Quick and dirty on the side of the road, Lynch. Who knew you were such a filthy bastard." Kavinsky still obeyed, coming to a stop on the gravel.

There was a beat of silence, aside from the blaring music. 

Kavinsky unlocked the doors. "You plannin' on walking or do you want to behave and earn your ride home? Awful cold out there." Kavinsky smirked again, a knowing flash of teeth, even in darkness. His hand landed on Ronan's thigh.

Ronan met the suggestive gaze with more than a touch of anger. "Swan." He said calmly as K's hand crept further up his leg. "Get my bag. I'm walking." Ronan got out and slammed the door.

Swan shuffled things around in the backseat and eventually wrangled the duffel out. After he dropped it on the ground, Ronan heard Swan ask to sit up front and Kavinsky's short denial.

He should have watched the highway closer, should have said something earlier so he wouldn't have to walk back so far in the dark. He didn't even know how far away he was. He slung his bag over his shoulder and started.

The car behind him rumbled and reversed onto the empty road and kept pace going backwards as Ronan walked. 

"God, leave already." Ronan groaned.

"I'll take you to your place for a fee."

"No." He said without hesitation. "Get off to your places to be."

"It's a good offer, I think you want to hear it."

Ronan didn't usually consider K's offers in these kinds of situations. It wasn't the first time it had happened and Ronan doubted it would be the last. K's favors were usually something demoralizing and sexual.

"If you want to suck a dick so bad, Swan is literally right there. I'm done."

"Done?" K echoed while Swan's curious voice responded from behind the darkened window "you want to suck my dick?"

Ronan stopped walking. His nose was cold and he already lost some feeling in his fingers. "Leave." He commanded. He imagined K would at least look hurt, but all he saw was a flash of anger.

"Fine. Next time, have Dick give you a ride. Figuratively and literally. Bet you'd love that." And the car took off in a scream of gravel and tire.

When the red taillights were no longer in view, Ronan rubbed a hand over his face. He tried his pockets for his phone, which Niall insisted he at least carry for emergencies, and came up empty. Of all the times he needed a cell phone.

He kicked a streak of rocks and swore. Miles from home, he had to keep moving. Though K had gotten them far enough out of town that lamp lights weren't needed, Ronan could tell when he stepped off the road. If a car drove by (which none did), Ronan planned to stick out his thumb and hope for the best. He swore again.

And another time as a horribly loud engine sped from behind him and slowed to a stop a good distance in front of him. Ronan clenched his fists as the driver's door opened and a figure stepped out.

As the two approached each other, Ronan lifted an eyebrow. "Well, if it isn't Gansey."

"Ronan." Gansey said. His voice was higher with skepticism but his eyes still shone with surprise. "What impossible thing are you up to tonight?"

"I'm walking home." Ronan said drily, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "Can I catch a ride to town?"

"Absolutely, friend." Gansey waved back to his car. 

A hideously orange Camaro. Orange. With a wide black stripe on the hood, still grumbling loudly. The vehicle only had two doors and the back seat looked full of suitcases and boxes of books and a stack of bed sheets and towels. Ronan held his own bag on his lap, feeling the edge of his racket dig into his leg, but he didn't care. The Camaro's engine ran so poor that the cab was hot and smelled like it could catch fire at any moment. 

"I can take you to your house if that's where you're headed."

Ronan nodded with an indifferent noise. Anywhere with this kind of heat would be nice.

"I was just picking up a few things from my parents'." Gansey explained when he caught Ronan subtly looking at the collection of stuff. "I'm moving off campus."

"Where to?" Ronan asked.

"You know the old factories down on Monmouth? The abandoned ones? I met a local real estate agent recently and he said none of them have been touched since the fifties. I looked around and they're all full of junk, but there's a lot of space and it's a nice distance from everything I'd want to get to."

Why anyone would want to live in an abandoned factory full of junk was beyond Ronan, but Gansey seemed excited. He'd driven past the factories hundreds of times and never gave much thought to them, just accepted as a part of Henrietta he'd never cared about. It was hard to imagine someone as clean and proper as Gansey calling a place like that home, just as Ronan couldn't imagine himself living anywhere but the barns. Ronan belonged there. Gansey shouldn't belong to a dusty factory on the verge of falling down.

"That's pretty cool." He said finally.

"I think so. If you ever have time I could use some help clearing it out. I don't know what kind of factory it was but there's all kinds of appliances on the second floor and from the blueprints I've seen that's where the offices were. I'm going to make those into bedrooms."

Ronan studied the driver, so different from Kavinsky. Where K was mocking and harsh, Gansey was genuine. Even the way he talked could have fooled Ronan into believing they'd been friends for far longer than they had actually known each other. Gansey arrived to Aglionby out of nowhere in the middle of December before finals week and Ronan barely thought of him then. Now, after the winter break, with a few classes together, Gansey usually made a point to at least acknowledge that he knew Ronan to some degree, but then again, Gansey did that with everyone he knew. And he knew everyone. 

"I've got tennis after school." Ronan said.

Gansey grinned. "I didn't know you played. Are you any good?"

"I could kick your ass any day."

"I've just joined the rowing team. There's weight lifting in the morning and actual practice after school. When does yours end?"

"Eight."

"I'm done at six. I could hang around and give you a lift home, if you're willing to give me a hand with all the junk."

Ronan started to shake his head. Kavinsky would hate this. "You'd be waiting for two hours."

Gansey frowned. "I can do homework at the library. It's really no trouble. I'm getting desperate."

Those words, and the tone in which they fell out caused Ronan to squint his eyes. Gansey's face was relaxed but his hand resting on the shift was strained. 

"Where exactly are you sleeping now?"

The skin at Gansey's eyes tightened and his mouth pursed for a brief moment. "Would you believe me if I said the dorms?" He ended the question like a statement and Ronan immediately scoffed. He hadn't expected Gansey to be a good liar, but he hadn't expected it to be so obvious.

"You're staying with me until we get your factory cleared up."

"Ronan, you can't just-"

"I can." Ronan cut in, watching Gansey's hand loosen. "Take the next exit."

-

Ronan kicked open the door and stomped inside, stepping out of his boots, joining them to the many other pairs of shoes collected on the rug nearby. Gansey was behind him with his backpack and a carryon suitcase, which he'd filled with a few days' worth of uniforms and other clothes, a towel, a toothbrush, and his glasses case. They crowded in the entryway and Gansey hung his jacket in the closet where Ronan pointed, setting his things down by Ronan's bag.

The rest of the Lynches were scattered about the house, each engaged in various tasks, but Matthew was the first one accessible. He was playing a handheld video game with headphones at the kitchen counter. Dirty dishes with fresh stains of dinner - likely something with ketchup by the looks of it - were stacked by the sink. 

"Where's Dad?" Ronan said by way of greeting, ruffling Matthew's hair.

"In his office. Who's that?" Matthew was staring at Gansey.

"A friend. Gansey, this is Matthew. I'll be right back." Ronan said, and took off for the stairs.

Gansey packed shockingly efficiently Ronan realized as he carried Gansey's things to his room. Ronan cleared some space to put them and went down the hall to the last door which was cracked open.

He went inside without knocking and found his dad reading a book with red binding and drinking an unlabeled beer. Niall's hair at one point had been combed but he'd run his hands through it several times and it now resembled Ronan's after he'd slipped off his beanie, which he'd done on his way up the stairs.

"Ronan." Niall said, closing the book and standing.

It wasn't anger and Ronan wasn't afraid. He meant to explain Gansey's situation but instead, he heard himself ask, "Are you ok?"

"I'm glad you're back." He answered. "I have to leave in the morning. For a couple weeks."

"Why?"

"Business. Everyone wants me and I can only be where I am."

Ronan's stomach turned cold. This wasn't the first time his father had to leave on short notice but it was getting tired. The house, the grounds, Aurora, the brothers, all of them felt very different when Niall wasn't around. It was a subtle change but not at all uncommon as Niall spent more time away from home than he was there.

"I'll keep to the calling schedule, don't worry about me."

Ronan swallowed hard. "When are you going?"

"The plan is four."

"Where?"

Niall took a drink and wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist. It was a poor diversion tactic but it sent an obvious message - Niall couldn't or didn't want to answer the question.

Ronan didn't know what else to say without opening the dam of emotion. This was the third trip in as many months, each longer than the last. He nodded and turned back to the hallway. "A friend is staying with me for a few days." He said to the door frame.

Niall sighed behind him, scratching a hand over his dark beard. "Keep him away from the strange things. Tell your mother."

"See you in a few weeks then."

-


	2. Chapter 2

Gansey fit in with the Lynches well from the moment he first arrived. He and Matthew quickly bonded over video games, which he used to play constantly with Helen before she decided that her own friends were cooler than her little brother. Gansey grew nostalgic whenever he saw handheld games. Declan and Gansey hadn't had many encounters, but the few that they did were laced with undeniable respect for the other, each too dignified to outright say that they were on equal footing. And Gansey hadn't yet found trouble in Ronan, and he hoped it would stay that way. It was, after all, because of Ronan that he was now sitting on the edge of a twin bed opposite his friend's. 

"Matthew and I used to share." Ronan said quietly, stripping out of his uniform.

"For how long?" Gansey politely turned his head while Ronan changed into a pair of loose sweatpants.

"As long as I remember until two years ago." He flopped down on his bed and pulled a blanket up around his shoulders.

Gansey wasn't quite tired yet and hadn't done any homework as he'd been driving to DC and back. But he figured when Ronan fell asleep he could use the light on his phone to get something done. He hadn't noticed whether or not Ronan even brought in a backpack or any textbooks or notebooks at all, but then again his thoughts had been preoccupied by the absolute normalcy of Ronan's house and family. That and his gratitude for Ronan saving him from another night sleeping in the Camaro.

He didn't mind because he did very little sleeping. Instead he parked the Camaro outside Monmouth Manufacturing and read journals and newspapers with a small flashlight until morning. Then, he'd drive to the lonely motel in town and ask whichever housekeeping staff he could find if he could borrow an iron to press his uniform and then head off to school for lifting.

In the short time he'd been in Henrietta, he'd fallen in love. The cool air and rainstorms reminded him fondly of Europe and his friend Roger Mallory. The sky became a beautiful color and the backroads north of town (not too far from where Ronan lived) had breathtaking views over valleys and not quite mountains. In Henrietta, he could see stars and dream of royalty with his eyes wide open.

"Ronan?"

His friend blinked open an eye. "What?"

"How much do you know about Welsh kings?"

The fine dark eyebrow Gansey could see narrowed in an expression he hadn't learned to recognize on Ronan. "Like Charles?"

"Yes, but further back."

"Why?"

"I'm looking for a king, Owen Glendower, and I think he's nearby."

Ronan sat up, still clutching the blanket. His cheek had fine pink lines from his pillow and he did look more tired than Gansey thought. "Just how long ago was he a king?"

This was always where they grew concerned for him. Gansey had explained his quest hundreds of times and he always got the same look. Gansey didn't know why, he just knew that doubt from Ronan would hurt more than anyone else's.

"About seven hundred years."

Doubt wasn't the right word for the look on Ronan's face. It was more focused, more curious. "You're looking for a dead body that's seven hundred years old." A statement.

"Rumor has it he's not dead. Sleeping."

"Non mortem, somni fratrem." Ronan whispered.

Gansey wasn't outstanding at Latin but he knew what Ronan meant. "Exactly. I'm going to find him. That's why I came to Henrietta in the first place."

Ronan shook his head once, clearing it of the awe. He fell back into his pillow, words muffled by blanket. "You mean you didn't come for the five star schools or the rampant drug problem?"

"I wasn't aware there was a drug problem." He paused, thinking of some boys at school who hung around after class exchanging wads of bills for something that could be quickly slipped into a pocket or up a sleeve. He amended, "I wasn't aware that it could be called rampant."

Ronan laughed. "Gansey, you have a lot to learn."

-

A little before 3:30, Gansey heard Ronan get out of bed. He quickly turned off his phone and exhaled long and slow in imitation of a good sleep. He'd been working on math homework and was doodling in the margins, far from any kind of rest. The closer he listened though, the more movement he heard in the house.

Ronan wasn't exactly quiet going down the stairs, and his father did have an expressive voice, which Gansey thought was nicer than saying that Niall Lynch was loud and may not have known the definition of quiet. 

Gansey only caught a few words here and there, a scrape of a barstool, the sound of a teaspoon hitting a bowl. He laid with an arm thrown above his head, his textbook flipping closed beside him. Everything felt very real and very alive here, in opposition to the Gansey mansion an hour away. The house was warm and inviting from its welcome mat to the stools with worn seats to the room full of unused or useless things that he peeked into while trying to find Ronan.

The room he was in now was lived in - piles of clothes discernible only by smell whether they were clean or dirty. A desk was shoved into one corner, buried under more clothes, a pair of boots, a fuzzy blanket, and a stack of papers balanced on top, presumably from school. The walls were wallpapered featuring paisley designs in dark orange and gold. Even the smell, overlooking the thrice teenage boy scent was woody and cozy, bringing the outdoors inside.

Not long after Gansey rolled over and tried to keep his eyes closed, Ronan came back, swearing as he tripped over Gansey's backpack. Gansey took the opportunity to pretend to wake up at the sound.

"Ronan?"

"Shit, sorry." Ronan whispered.

"It's fine. What's going on?"

He'd gotten back under his blankets and released a breath. "My dad left for a business trip. What time do you have lifting?"

"Six."

"Wake me up when you leave. Declan will take me to school."

"I will." Gansey said. Ronan's light snore ended the conversation.

-

Before sixth period, Gansey hadn't seen Ronan. It wasn't unusual for Ronan to miss a class here and there, but Gansey felt that their former relationship changed, quite literally overnight. Ronan's absence felt odd, almost like betrayal, but Gansey knew that was petty and overdramatic.

Students trickled in the class a few at a time, going to their spots. The minutes before class ticked down and Gansey let himself wonder what someone like Ronan would do instead of go to class. Probably something illegal - or perfectly legal, just insignificant enough that Ronan would deem it more important than about trigonometry. Anything was more important than trig to Gansey.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Dick Gansey," Joseph Kavinsky sang obnoxiously. His dry knuckles were freshly split open with dots of blood in the cracks.

"Just Gansey." He said. He knew it was Kavinsky being annoying on purpose but the name physically hurt. Even having spent very little time previously with boys his own age, he quickly grew tired of dick jokes and tried briefly to convince his entire family to call him Richy but that failed. He learned since to ignore the gags at his expense.

"I'm throwin' a little party this weekend. Thought you might want to attend. It's gonna be a smash." Kavinsky droned on. One of his gang - Gansey couldn't keep their names straight there were so many - snorted. Kavinsky's last party made the evening news when three people ended up in the hospital and a huge tree in the woods nearby mysteriously caught fire while an abandoned car sat nearby blasting Christmas music. Kavinsky got a warning from the police.

Gansey used the voice he saved for elderly people, the kind that made them trust him and not see his actual intentions of simply not wanting to attend. Despite being friendly, Gansey was introverted. "I don't think that's a great idea. Thanks though. I'm sure it'll be fun."

Kavinsky slithered into the desk behind Gansey, leaning in close. His breath was an unappealing combination of smoke and deodorant, though Gansey wasn't sure why such an odor was coming from K's mouth. "Would it change your mind if Lynch already RSVP'd?"

"Lynch?" Gansey asked. "Ronan Lynch?"

"Both of them. Though the future president agreed only on the down-low. Couldn't bear to soil such a reputation publicly. Future jailbird wasn't concerned about that." Kavinsky clicked his tongue. "But speak of the devil,"

As he said this, Ronan entered and threw himself into a desk next to Gansey, ignoring Kavinsky's hand either going for a high five or accepting an offer that wasn't given. Kavinsky leaned back in his chair, tipping it to balance on two legs. 

"I was just telling Gansey about our little get together this Friday. You two didn't make other plans I hope." K drawled with a smirk, eyes shining dangerously.

Gansey could guess what the insinuation was and he wasn't particularly bothered by it. What did bother him was the idea that Ronan and Kavinsky knew each other, which shouldn't have been notable as they'd probably gone to school together since they could walk but seeing them interact familiarly seemed odd. Part of that could have been because Ronan looked as if he'd just swallowed a knitting needle. Gansey had not failed to notice the set attached to an uneven scarf of yellow yarn among the extraneous things on Ronan's desk. 

"We did actually." Ronan said, surprising everyone who was listening. He met Gansey's eyes carefully.

"We did." Gansey agreed.

"Finally gonna give it up, Ronan? Hey, Dick, if you need something to help your eh, dick" he chuckled in a disturbingly gleeful way. "I can hook you up. Got some little blue pills not too long ago, but you're gonna have to seek medical attention for an erection lasting more than four hours."

Gansey scoffed, trying to stop his embarrassment from showing. Ronan rolled his eyes and turned in his chair while the teacher coughed loudly and began to write notes on the board.

-

Gansey sat outside the steps of the gym, cradling his hands in front of his mouth, breathing on them now and again to keep circulation. He glanced at his watch now and again, but every time he checked less and less time had passed. That afternoon, he found out that the library closed early and even he, with his persuasive and polite words could not convince the cleaning staff to allow him to stand inside the door for only an hour. And the gym was locked from the inside, which was ridiculous.

Soon, Ronan stepped out behind groups of twos and threes rushing to get to their expensive cars and back to their expensive houses. Gansey held out his hand to take Ronan's bag, which Ronan ignored.

"Hey." Ronan said, bumping knuckles with Gansey instead.

"How tired are you?"

"Why?"

Gansey picked his keys from his pocket and led the way to the Camaro. Once inside and as comfortable as he could get, Ronan turned the heater on high. "You just had four hours of practice, aren't you tired at all?"

"I didn't say that." Ronan said. "What's the plan?"

"I was thinking we could try and make a path to the stairs today. I haven't actually seen the upstairs damage. There's another staircase outside but the last five steps are missing and I saw a padlock on the door that I don't have a key to, so we have to go through the inside." Gansey spoke over the loud engine. He saw Ronan look at him out of the corner of his eye but he didn't acknowledge it. He should have known to scout the building out before handing over his wallet, but his hindsight, as usual, was startlingly good. "Then we could order pizza and head back to your house."

Ronan's lips tightened in what Gansey assumed was consideration. "Just how much shit is in this place?"

"A lot. It's going to take some time."

-

When Ronan got out of the Camaro and got his first actual look at Monmouth Manufacturing, Gansey was already at the door sticking a key to the lock. He threw open the door as far as it would go, only halfway because something incredibly heavy and immobile prevented it from opening further. It was dark, but Gansey had the forethought to bring a lantern that belonged among campers' supplies rather than office supplies. 

Inside, the lantern revealed the tall ceilings and broken windows and useless wires and so much dust that Gansey resisted the urge to shiver. Maybe he'd been hasty in his purchase. But he still had hope. And now with another body to help make it move-in ready the idea seemed much more plausible than it had ever been before. 

"Where are the stairs?" Ronan asked, still scanning the area.

"On the other side of those three desks on top of each other, behind the industrial fans over there." He pointed over the sea of rubbish, unsure where to start.

Ronan breathed a swear word and put his hands in his pockets. "And do you have a dumpster or were you just planning on making this a giant game of Tetris?"

Gansey frowned. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You could pay someone to do this for you. Probably by the weekend if you wanted." 

"I want to do this myself. Maybe getting to the stairs was too lofty, but let's at least get some of this out to the parking lot and I'll get a dumpster or a pickup truck later."

Gansey slinked between two dusty office chairs that were an ugly shade of olive green. He pushed one towards Ronan who dragged it by the arm closer to the door. As Ronan pulled, he gave a tough jerk and the whole arm of the chair snapped off. The wood was soft and rotten inside, chewed away by bugs and probably some kind of fungus.

Ronan chucked the piece outside and clapped his hands clean. "This is a shithole."

"Yes, but it's my shithole." Gansey said proudly. "Come on."

-


	3. Chapter 3

In only a few days, Ronan accepted Gansey as part of the regular scenery of his home. It was as normal to come to his room and find Gansey reading on Matthew's old bed as it was to find a bug under a rock. Due to Ronan's tiredness after practice, which Gansey hadn't counted on, they agreed to work at Monmouth twice a week for no more than two hours. Ronan didn't mind the sacrifice of time since he didn't do his homework anyway and had few other activities that he cared about, but he did care that his arms often felt like they would fall off after dragging so many appliances and furniture into a parking lot. 

Every Saturday morning, a crew with a dump truck cleared the lot and the week began again. Through the rest of winter and the beginning of spring they kept to a regular schedule becoming better friends each day. Declan for the most part ignored them, too caught up in his own world, and Matthew offered to help more than once, but he'd gotten in the way more than he assisted. The whole time, Niall's absence wasn't problematic until he called, once a week - Sunday afternoons after church - to remind them that he should be present. Ronan was only moody after those calls.

Ronan had abandoned his flannel blankets in exchange for only one bedsheet, which he wore draped over his shoulders like a cape. Working out broadened his chest and made him seem taller. He'd gotten a new set of headphones, sleek and silver, the kind that covered the entire ear and was presently nodding his head to an Irish rock tune only he could hear, reading through an advertisement for running shoes. 

He startled when Gansey threw a balled up piece of paper at him. He brought the headphones down around his neck. "What?"

"I asked when your dad is gonna be back." Gansey said.

"Who knows?" Ronan answered without conviction. "Could be tonight, could be next week. He said a few weeks, but it's been two months." He shrugged, trying not to sound hurt. 

Gansey closed his journal and put it down on the stack of books he'd accumulated and moved to the room. Aurora offered him the spare room down the hall until he agreed to at least use Matthew's old dresser to hold some of his clothes instead of living out of his suitcase. The rest of his belongings sat on the first floor of Monmouth, waiting until he moved in for good.

"I want to drive to Delaware this weekend." Gansey announced. "Can you come?"

"What's in Delaware?"

"A librarian who's an expert in English history. I want to talk to her."

Ronan looked back to his magazine. "Your car will never make it. That thing guzzles gas like a pig." 

Gansey chuckled at that. "And oil."

"And wiper fluid." Ronan laughed. "That's what you should call it. Pig."

"Capital letters and all." Gansey joined in laughter.

Declan opened the door and glared at the two of them. "Would you please stop talking?" 

He didn't ask it like a question or a request. It carried the same tone as if he was stating that Ronan had blue eyes or Gansey wore tacky shoes. Declan's mouth was set in a firm line, one wrong comment away from a fight, like his brother.

"Depends." Ronan started. "Give me the Jeep this weekend."

"What for?" He didn't say no and his face didn't change.

Gansey interrupted before Ronan could. "We're going up to Delaware."

Declan sucked in his lips and his eyebrows narrowed in a characteristically Lynch way. "Have you told mom?"

"She let you go to California for three weeks last year with an hour's notice." Ronan shot back, frustration evident in his tightening knuckles and quickening pulse. 

"You can have the Jeep." Declan said, waving his hand as if it really didn't matter. His nostrils flared as he moved toward the door. "If," he added quickly, as he'd just thought of an idea. "If you do something for me."

Ronan huffed. "What do you want?"

"I don't know yet. But I get a favor no questions asked, redeemable anytime."

This was a game they used to play. When they were younger before chores around the grounds were second nature, they would promise unspecific favors to each other, no questions asked. All the brothers participated, so intensely at one point Aurora had to keep notes on the fridge just to keep track of who owed whom. It had only come to blows once that Ronan recalled, and even so, he'd only managed to give Declan a nasty bruise on one cheek before Niall dragged him away by his hair. Ever since, both Ronan and Declan made a point to keep their dark hair short enough that it couldn't be grasped easily enough to hold any weight should anyone have to pull it.

"Fine."

Declan only gave a tight-lipped smile as he slammed the door.

When the only sound left was late birds still chirping and crickets, Gansey clapped his hands onto his knees. "Delaware might still be cold this time of year. I'll start packing."

-

Ronan wasn't a bad driver. He passed his driver's test the first time because Niall used to take his boys out one at a time and teach them to drive his precious BMW. He wasn't a bad driver. He used his turn signal half the time and had no regard for speed limits or yellow lights. He swore up and down that he'd never hit anyone or anything, though that was a lie. Once, he backed into a row of garbage cans on his way home from one of Kavinsky's parties. He was hungover and didn't check his mirrors.

Still, Gansey wore his seatbelt and didn't complain when Ronan turned on the heater and kept reaching for a gear shift that wasn't there. Declan's Jeep, his most recent birthday present from Niall, was an automatic. Instead, Ronan kept his hands busy tapping out beats to songs on the radio that Gansey was not familiar with yet. Some of the more popular songs were on the radio in England, but Gansey preferred talk shows, he explained.

They shared stories back and forth for hours until Gansey had to dig out his map - of course he had a map of Delaware and not the dedication to figure out a GPS - and guide them to a modern building that looked more like a house with a sculpture garden on the lawn in front.

"This is it?" Ronan's eyebrow lifted, getting out of the car and putting on his Aglionby tennis sweatshirt. He scraped a boot over the uneven street and came around to Gansey's side.

"This should be it. You don't have to come in." Gansey's voice trailed off and he took his journal out of his bag.

Ronan locked the car and led the way to the front door. The more they looked around, the less it seemed like a library and more it still seemed like a house. The driveway nearby was lined with at least three cars, all expensive and new, the fountain, which neither of them noticed before, was a tall marble structure spewing cold water. Even the muddiness that was everywhere else because spring hadn't quite arrived yet seemed less dirty than anywhere else.

Gansey rang the doorbell and put on his practiced smile that often got his way. Ronan didn't have such a smile and didn't attempt one. 

His expressive eyebrows, the most telling part of his face, hardened when the door opened.

"Skov?" Ronan growled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Gansey didn't know how to react other than saying, "Ronan," Like he was commanding a dog to stop biting.

Skov only grinned without a word. He was one of Kavinsky's gang and perpetually on something that made his pupils black as night. Even now, in the early morning, his eyes were empty and Ronan could see the lighter in his hand. He smelled like he hadn't showered in a week.

"What are you doing here?" Gansey repeated Ronan's query in a different, less hostile way, which meant that he didn't swear.

Skov's head tilted back and forth, hair swaying with his movement. In general, Aglionby preferred its students to maintain naturally colored hair with the exception of temporary dye so long as it was in school spirit. Skov had little to no school spirit yet kept a flop of sky blue hair which had since grown out and faded, revealing his brown roots. When questioned, he insisted he didn't know the color was not temporary and he'd only done it to support his dear friend Ronan Lynch at tennis matches. Skov had never been to a game.

Skov didn't actually know Ronan, only knew his name because Kavinsky threw it around often paired with swears, and once combined in K's breathy moan as he jerked himself off in the room next to where Skov had collapsed to pass out for the night as a party winded down. Skov kept that secret and the one that followed the next morning when Declan crept out of K's room half-dressed and horribly hungover.

"Me?" Skov touched his chest, offended. "I can't come to my own house?"

"You live in Delaware? Why?" Gansey asked while Ronan's eye squinted suspiciously.

Skov stepped back after a nasty voice snapped behind him to let them in.

Gansey went in first. Ronan was so visibly enraged by Skov's presence, reminding him of Kavinsky, and couldn't make himself enter until Gansey did.

The house was more like a library on the inside. In the first sitting room, or book room as it should have been called since there were no chairs in it, was filled with shelves lined perpendicularly against the wall to maximize storage leaving a gap between them barely larger than Ronan's shoulders. Gansey's mouth opened a little but he was too taken by the sight of so many old manuscripts and books that he couldn't find words.

"I was expecting you last night." A witheringly old woman shuffled from the kitchen to the boys. Skov got out of her way and when she wasn't looking, he flipped them off and disappeared somewhere in the house.

"I'm sorry for any confusion," Gansey started in his diplomatic way. "I should have called to confirm the date."

The woman's mouth moved like she was chewing or stretching her jaw but she didn't say anything.

Before the silence could go on any longer, Gansey said, "What can you tell me about Welsh kings?"

-

"I want my money back." Gansey pouted in the car, pointing the air vents away from him. Ronan, again, turned the heater on and had resorted to putting on the pair of gloves Gansey found in the glove box next to the owner's manual, an ice scraper, and two unlabeled CDs without cases.

Ronan glanced over his shoulder to merge onto the interstate. "Stopping for junk food was a great idea what do you mean?"

Gansey took a bite of pizza and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "It was. But Skov's great aunt was not nearly as helpful as I thought she would be. When she said English royalty, I meant across the ocean English, not New English American."

"You had different definitions of royalty. Think she knows the founding fathers weren't actually kings?"

Gansey didn't reply and handed Ronan a burrito that smelled like pepper. They kept driving north until it was too dark and cold enough that Ronan's hands couldn't retain the heat of the car or gloves. Their new plan was to hike around the foothills and see what they could find.

They stopped at a single level motel and while Ronan went to the desk to get them a room for the night, Gansey gathered their collection of food and their bags for the night. The room was superficially clean but close inspection revealed oddly shaped stains on the sheets, mold in the corners of the shower, and an overly strong scent of bleach coming from somewhere underneath one of the queen sized beds.

Ronan burrowed under the sheets without a thought to their cleanliness and quickly fell asleep, through the late night talk show that Gansey turned on while reading through his journal.

Hours after midnight, Ronan woke with a gasp and a handful of dirt. The light of the lamp still on confused him briefly, as did the alarm clock blinking in red digits. Swiping the dirt on the floor before Gansey could see and question, Ronan sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Gansey, now wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, flipped a few pages and sighed. "Just looking over some notes." He said.

Ronan had somehow missed the fact that Gansey wore glasses, but could see why he avoided them. Gansey's face looked much smaller and he looked four years younger and far less composed with indents on the bridge of his straight nose. He knew Gansey wore contacts since the first week they'd shared a room. Ronan had walked by the bathroom several mornings and seen Gansey sticking his fingers in his eyes, hair still wet and uncombed after he'd showered, a towel hanging around his hips. Ronan swallowed over the sudden dryness in his throat.

"Have you been awake the whole time?" Gansey's jaw clenched and Ronan didn't wait for an answer. "Shit, man, go to sleep."

Neither of them moved while Gansey considered. Ronan waited, well-practiced after being around his father, a prime example of avoidance. Silences were easier for Ronan to handle than an unwanted answer.

"I'm allergic to bees." Gansey said as if Ronan had instead asked about his medical history rather than sleeping habits.

"So?"

"Deathly allergic." There were several tense heartbeats. "I thought you should know, in case," he hesitated, mouth falling open with an unsaid hypothetical.

Ronan frowned, pulling his arms around his knees and resting his head against them. 

"And sometimes I can't sleep." Gansey finished quickly. Ronan knew better than to ask why. 

"Damn." Ronan said. "What's next in the search for Glendower?"

Gansey glanced over, a crease appearing in his forehead. "Ronan, you don't have to stay awake just to make me happy."

"Would it? Make you happy?"

"It's better than being awake and alone. But I can't ask you to do that." Gansey shook his head once and Ronan threw off his sheets, moving to sit next to Gansey against a stack of pillows.

"Where was the last place you found something?" He looked over Gansey's shoulder at the journal. He picked it up and thumbed through the first pages.

It was easy to tell Gansey was relieved that Ronan joined him. He settled his knees down and leaned back against the headboard. "Two weeks ago, with you, by the river."

"The giant rock."

"The giant rock." Gansey nodded. "I put it on the map here," he reached over and flipped to a page with a map of Virginia dotted with purple points with circles around them. 

Ronan made a quiet noise. "What did you find in England?"

"Lots of things."

"Tell me about them."

The line came back between Gansey's eyes, but from his side, Ronan couldn't see it. Ronan could only see Gansey's chest ebbing with his breaths, his arms, strong from all the weight-lifting he'd done for the rowing team of which he'd just been named captain, the line of his nose, the curve of his chin. Ronan had trouble remembering what his life had been like before Gansey - he never felt this at ease around Kavinsky. Every part of Kavinsky was mutated by his overwhelming lack of sobriety and only wanted Ronan on the off-chance that Ronan might want him back.

"I was in England for more than a year," Gansey started in a soft voice. "I lived with a professor who taught classical history." And for the next three hours, Gansey told Ronan more of his story.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

"Heard you, Dick, and Skov had a threesome this weekend." Kavinsky leaned against the wall of lockers before lunch break ended. "He said you came too soon, but I heard you took it like a champ." 

Ronan's jaw ticked. When Gansey emerged from the cafeteria with a green apple in his hand and a notebook under his arm, they bumped knuckles.

"How was your weekend, Joe?"

Kavinsky's snide comment faltered for half a second before he turned his face into a snarl. "Not too bad, Dicky. I have to ask, who was in the middle?"

Gansey's smile didn't waver. "The middle of what?"

Before Kavinsky could reply with something lewd, he saw something behind them and   
set off for it without explanation, shoving them out of his way. He threw his arm over Swan's shoulder and they disappeared.

"Do you know Adam Parrish?" Gansey asked when it was just the two of them, walking towards their next class.

Ronan shook his head. "I've heard the name." A light blush stained his cheeks as he tried not to think of the thin boy who sat across the room in biology, who chewed on pen caps, who had beautiful hands. Adam Parrish was the kind of boy that Ronan wouldn't have paid attention to. Adam kept his head down so well Ronan hadn't realized that he hadn't gone to Aglionby before this year. Only last week, Gansey accidentally walked into him, causing a heavy textbook to slap against the ground as it fell. The only word Adam said was "sorry" and it was round-voweled and soft and so Henrietta that Ronan was surprised Gansey didn't fall in love that instant. Ronan noticed Adam Parrish keeping to himself more than ever.

"He's going to help us today at Monmouth. I think we can get to the offices today."

Since they began cleaning up Monmouth, they'd cleared the entire first level. They'd found desks and chairs and rotting couches infested with rats and roaches. They'd found a rotten fruit basket with dried skins and peels and a box taped shut with a smell so nauseating that Ronan had to stand on the other side of the parking lot when they burned it.

Instead of paying for a weekly dumpster, they'd made their own fire pit in the middle of the parking lot and burned everything they could. Ronan usually stood closer than Gansey, holding hands towards the flames for warmth even as spring came around with rainstorms and sunshine in equal parts. 

One night a patrol car swung into the lot and two officers got out, prepared to reprimand two teenage boys, but Gansey, somehow, talked them into helping to get the last four desks and another sofa into the burn pile. Gansey had used that voice of his that made you want to do what he wanted - the kind you couldn't not obey. The kind that could be dangerous if he was interested in a political career, but Gansey only wanted to find his king and find meaning in his life. Fortunately the two went hand in hand so it saved Ronan a lot of effort of reassuring all the time.

"Hello?" Gansey snapped his fingers in front of Ronan's eyes.

Ronan blinked. "What?"

"Do you feel alright? You look like you're gonna throw up."

Ronan's ears grew hot. "No. I'm gonna head home." He slowed his pace and Gansey turned to face him. "Come pick me up before you go to Monmouth."

"Of course. I'll get notes for you. Feel better."

"Yeah, sure." Ronan spun on his heel and walked towards the parking lot.

Once the majority of students were out of the way and in their proper buildings for the proper classes, Ronan walked through the parking lot towards the soccer field. A gym class was outside running laps and the sun was harsh in early April. He rounded the corner behind the bleachers and jiggled the locked handle of the former locker rooms. They weren't used except as emergency restrooms because someone's parents generously donated a large sum of money to have a new sports complex built on the other side of the field, along with a concession stand and a spectator box.

A cloud of smoke wafted out once Ronan went in. A hand immediately grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall - Swan - his greasy hair and dirty fingernails hard to mistake. Ronan shoved him off with a curse.

Further in the locker room, Kavinsky was smoking something not cigarettes that made him blink slowly and flushed his face. He reclined against the wall, sitting on a bench, one arm over Skov's shoulder, the smoke dangling between his fingers. When he took a drag, he pulled Skov into a headlock. Skov didn't seem to care, he had a dreamy look on his face and kept rubbing his nose and sniffing loudly.

"So glad you escaped the girlfriend," K tipped his head. "Want a light?"

"No." Ronan said.

"Then get out." His wrist flicked and Swan and Jiang each appeared, standing too close behind Ronan.

Ronan didn't flinch, only hardened his expression. He was silent but not leaving. He knew Swan never had an original thought in his life and Jiang had been hit too many times in football to be quite normal. They'd been part of the gang for so long they didn't have the same intimidation factor they had when they first showed up at Kavinsky's parties and started acting like bodyguards. 

K huffed and took another breath, pushing Skov away and rising to his feet. He exhaled his smoke in Ronan's face. His voice was rough. "What do you want?"

"Take me home."

"That's a first." K laughed and stabbed a finger into Ronan's chest. "What's in it for me?"

Ronan noticed some new wounds on K's wrist, several long vertical scratches the width of fingernails. This close, Ronan also saw round bruises around his neck, four on one side, one on the other, the spacing of a hand. Lifting his arm, Ronan fit his fingers to Kavinsky's throat, matching the bruises perfectly. He gave a tight squeeze, watching K's eyes dilate further, his breath catching. "Interesting bruises." Ronan commented with lifted eyebrow.

K backed away. "I'll give you a ride. No charge. From the goodness of my heart."

-

The whole ride, Ronan was distracted by several things. First, Kavinsky's lack of need for direction. His speed was unreasonable and uncatchable even by the patrol car parked behind the Henrietta sign on the way out of town, though it was more likely the officer was napping. He made the proper turns before Ronan could tell him to. Second, Kavinsky kept looking at him from the side, his hand curled loosely around the gear shift in a vaguely sexual way that always made Ronan lose his train of thought and adjust in his seat. Kavinsky smirked and gripped tighter. Third, Ronan was getting cold.

The driveway to the Barns was empty, so Kavinsky pulled in before the garage and parked. The front door was unlocked, not surprisingly as Aurora was usually home, knitting or sewing or practicing her baking. But Ronan recalled her leaving for a day trip to see her cousin, or so she said. Both of her parents, Niall once told him, were only children and had died long ago. She shouldn't have had cousins in that case.

Inside the house, Declan was sitting in the living room eating a bowl of cereal in his uniform khakis, his tie on the floor and shirt buttons undone, watching the news. He wasn't expecting Ronan and sat up, angry veins rising to the surface of his forehead and neck. "What the hell are you doing home?" His eyes flicked to Kavinsky, standing behind Ronan with his arms crossed, looking at the walls. "And who the hell are you?" He asked a beat too late.

"I'm sick." Ronan said darkly. The worried knot in Declan's eyebrows became more and more obvious the longer Ronan thought, the lack of swearing at Kavinsky, the lack of introductions. "You know each other?" He turned on Kavinsky, who was still a little dazed from the drugs earlier.

Kavinsky shrugged.

Declan had set down his cereal and was struggling to come up with an explanation. When none came, Ronan grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged, trying to will his headache away. 

"We've met at school." Declan finally explained, skin around his eyes tight. His hands were in fists, his neck flushing red with a lie.

Kavinsky rolled his eyes and put his hand on Ronan's shoulder. "We've been blowing each other for a while," he said at the same time Declan said, "What the fuck, Joey."

Ronan could only stare at Kavinsky. "Joey?"

"I'm trying a new nickname." Kavinsky said with an unapologetic smile.

Anger flashed through Ronan's veins, hot and dangerous as a live wire. He wanted to punch something, to burn something, to kill someone in that room. Gansey would have insisted they talk it out but Gansey wasn't there, so Ronan swung his fist at Declan. 

Declan wasn't prepared, as he'd covered his face with his hands as if that would hide the embarrassment, but he recovered quickly, falling into a fighting stance, shaking off the last hit.

Before either of them could hit again, Ronan's arm was tugged back and forced high on his shoulder, twisting painfully.

Niall Lynch grit his teeth and pushed his sons further apart. "Both of you should be in school." He growled. 

Since his trip, he'd shaved his beard and gotten a haircut, a close buzz to his head, short enough to only suggest the idea of dark hair, but nothing to prove it. His face was thin, eyes tired, as rough as Niall always was after coming back from a trip. 

Before Ronan could respond, Declan said, his voice firm, "I'm using my favor. I get no shit about this."

Ronan jerked his arm and swore when he wasn't released. His shoulder blades ached. Niall was in incredible shape from his weight-lifting, jogging, and boxing, among the physical labor he'd done around the farm for years.

But this was not the kind of thing Ronan could just ignore and let go. Declan and Kavinsky? It didn't make sense, but it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise. If Ronan hadn't been so intensely shooting for blackouts at parties, he might have seen K's poor attempt at flirtation while whatever drugs in his system reduced the fine lines of Declan's face and body into Ronan's. Declan, too drunk to care that Kavinsky called him the wrong name, or too lonely when was sober, needed the attention.

Lips curling, Ronan snarled and stopped struggling, rewarded when Niall's hands loosened. Once free, Ronan flipped Declan off and stomped up to his room.

Kavinsky was resting on his bed, lazily reading the inside flap of one of Gansey's books. It was something about a royal family not related to Glendower but still pertinent to the search, knowing about those he may have interacted with. And Gansey collected books by that author. This most recent addition was number nine.

"Who the fuck is Glendower?" Kavinsky looked up, pronouncing all the vowels long. Ronan's blood turned hot. "And why is your girlfriend's name here?" His bony finger tapped Richard C. Gansey III's name written in a neat cursive on the opposite page.

Ronan couldn't put words together quickly enough. 

Kavinsky grew bored and looked around the room. "You share with your brother?"

"Fuck you."

"It's just a question. I thought you didn't get along. Wait, don't tell me. Incest." Kavinsky cackled and threw the book on the other bed. 

Being shortly after lunch, with the window shades drawn, the room was not well lit. None of the items could be directly traced to Gansey because Ronan knew he wasn't vain enough to actively seek out monogrammed items or put his name on the back of his sweatshirts, which he rarely wore now that it was April. Gansey's rowing crew t-shirts were all in a pile at the foot of the bed, and Ronan hoped K hadn't cared enough to read them. Kavinsky could assume all this was Declan's or Matthew's, but, he hoped, Kavinsky didn't know about Matthew. Too good to fall for Kavinsky like the others did, and too young to know that Joseph Kavinsky was bad news.

Thinking of blond curls and organ lessons and Sunday mass, Ronan's heart slowed enough to let him sit on Gansey's bed. He dropped his head into his hands, touching his elbows to his knees.

"When did you and Dec… you know?"

Kavinsky's hand shook as he dug through the pile of magazines on the table. "You really want to know?"

"No." Ronan replied through his teeth.

"Then why do you care?"

"I want to know how long he's been going out in case he turns up dead in a ditch one day."

Kavinsky laughed. "Going out? We don't go on dates, I don't buy dinner. He comes to parties, gets hammered, we sneak upstairs," his words morphed into a sing-song as he went on, punctuating with a suggestive hand movement, "and do our thing. He makes me swear not to tell, I give him what he wants and he leaves. Never spends the night," at this, Kavinsky's dark eyes lingered on Ronan's face, still in his hands, for a second, each of them thinking of the few times Ronan hadn't left as soon as the party died.

Ronan peeked between his fingers. "What he wants?"

"You really want to know he likes it up the ass with his hands tied?"

"No, fuck, stop," Ronan resisted the urge to shudder.

"I was kidding." The seriousness and missing smirk implied he wasn't. There was a brief silence before, "Pills."

"What kind?" There was no question, only demand. The intensity didn't waver but Kavinsky didn't seem bothered by Ronan's sudden interest.

"For anxiety usually. Sometimes for sleeping, sometimes uppers. You need anything? Like I was telling Dick, I do have little blue pills, but you strike me as a bottom. I can give you some to pass along to him for your next date. Or, more fun, slip it into his drink, that shit is hilarious."

Ronan winced. A headache was forming behind his eyes. "Does he ever say why he needs-"

"It's not a fucking therapy session." Kavinsky interrupted.

While Ronan considered, Kavinsky dragged a hand slow over his pants. His hips shifted a little and Ronan fought the blush threatening to spill, but not well enough.

"Usually he blows me. So unless you'd like to take care of it, I'm gonna split." Kavinsky rubbed himself once more, hard, and sat up.

"Fuck off. I said I'm done with you."

Getting to his feet, Kavinsky moved in front of Ronan, close enough their legs touched. "Aw, babe, we both know you were cold when you said that. Can't trust anything you say when you're cold."

Ronan bit his tongue, suddenly hating his Irish blood and pale skin. He could feel heat spread over his cheeks and through his chest and down to his groin.

He and Kavinsky were at one point friends. Once high school started, they drifted apart only to reconvene at parties and for street races when Ronan got his license. Their relationship had been briefly physical and didn't have the loyalty of any further depth. More than once Ronan found Kavinsky engaged in disgustingly primal acts with others, which hurt at first. Ronan expected their interactions to be more than casual, but to Kavinsky everything was casual. No rules, no expectations, no pain. Ronan vowed to never fall for another casual relationship again.

"This isn't over. I'm not done with you." Kavinsky said softly. He quirked half his lips up and dug his fingers into Ronan's hair, gripping tightly, forcing Ronan's breath to catch and his eyes to look up. A self-satisfied smile melted over Kavinsky's face. "Declan," he said, syllables too blunt as if he'd never said the name, "likes his hair pulled."

And he was gone.

-

Dinner was awkward. Shortly after another yelling match, Ronan called Gansey and said he couldn't make it to Monmouth and the key was under the potted plant on the porch in case the door was locked when he and Adam got done. Gansey tried to ask questions but Ronan hung up before they got out. 

The five Lynches sat around the table for the first time in months and no one had anything to say. Declan and Ronan definitely were not speaking and Matthew didn't have a lot to say because he was trying to commit Niall's face into his memory forever. The clock with only a minute hand that spun counterclockwise ticked slowly on, through the words not said and apologies not made. No one asked Niall about his trip - he usually shrugged off the questions anyway.

Once Aurora and Matthew cleared the dishes and washed them, Niall took a long breath. "I heard your friend is still staying here."

Ronan sighed. "Yeah? So?"

Niall leaned forward in his chair, which was to say he sat up at a fuller height, crossing   
his arms. "Has he asked about anything?"

Declan excused himself with a vicious scrape of his chair and a final glare at Ronan.

"I told him you were an antique dealer and you bring home all the shit you like." Ronan huffed. "He hasn't asked. Mom kept the room with the really weird shit locked."

Niall nodded.

It was hard for Ronan to imagine anyone not liking Niall Lynch. The man was blunt when he wanted and gave everything to his family. Ronan loved him more than anything else and he wished that Niall would say he quit his job and wouldn't have to leave anymore. Without him, the brothers were just in the same house, the three of them not bound by anything other than a last name.

Shortly after everyone disappeared except Niall, who was still at the table, drinking thoughtfully, Gansey walked in. He took off his shoes and went straight to Niall.

"Hello, Mr. Lynch. I'm Richard Gansey."

"You're the one staying here?" Niall said, a slash of an eyebrow lifting. 

Gansey nodded, bringing out his presidential side, courteous and persuasive. "Yes, sir. I imagine only a few more weeks, by the end of the school year, I'll be out."

"Don't hurry. Ronan," he said the name slow and intensely, "likes having you around. More than Declan."

"I'm sure that's not true," Gansey started, knowing it was false. Sometimes, Ronan would confess that he and Declan could never be on the same page. They were too different, two kinds of harsh, and too stubborn to do anything about it. It didn't stop them from attending Sunday Mass in the same pew, cooperation for an hour, once a week. It was for Matthew's sake, if nothing else.

Niall's mouth twitched in a small smile. "You know more than you're telling. But it's late and you've got school tomorrow."

Gansey took his dismissal and found Ronan furiously cleaning their room, putting things into neat piles and overflowing the small round trashcan under his desk. He didn't acknowledge Gansey until all the dirty laundry was piled up, the floor was visible, and the desk was partly usable. Ronan collapsed on the bed, burying his face into his pillow.

"What happened to you?" Gansey asked.

"Fucking Declan."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ronan only grumbled, remembering Declan's words - I get no shit about this. Gansey would try to hold an intervention, research therapists, and have a family sit-down and have them talk about all their issues. But too many questions went unanswered in Ronan's mind - why did Declan need pills? And why so badly he was willing to… to do Kavinsky for them? Why was Kavinsky supplying? How was Kavinsky supplying?

While Ronan didn't answer, Gansey started his homework, not offering conversation about his adventure with Adam Parrish at Monmouth Manufacturing. Ronan almost wished he would, but he'd hear about it soon enough and be able to appreciate it more when he wasn't so distressed emotionally.

Ronan turned off the light and fell asleep, dreaming of tablets falling from the sky like rain, Kavinsky scooping them into bags with a shovel. He woke with tired limbs and bruises on his hands and knees.

-


	5. Chapter 5

The second week of May was the first time all three of them went to Monmouth. Adam Parrish was long legs and bony hands and small huffs of air instead of laughter. Ronan tried hard not to stare but it was nearly impossible when they were on opposite sides of various pieces of furniture carrying them carefully down the stairs.

Gansey was watching the burning pile, dousing the flames with lighter fluid and standing at a safe distance. He bought a flat of bottled water and insisted that they all stay hydrated. Both tennis and rowing were over with the end of the school year drawing close, so they were able to work almost every day. There wasn't too much left

Adam worked at a local mechanic and some kind of factory, Ronan hadn't asked and Adam didn't supply, and couldn't make it every day. He'd told Ronan almost hesitantly that he'd taken a few days off recently to study for finals, and only agreed to help Gansey because it was something else to do that didn't make him feel like he was wasting time. Ronan discovered quickly that Adam liked to see his results - to hear a broken engine run again, to see a cluttered room clean, to fill empty notebook pages.

When they got to the first office after heaving an unreasonably heavy file cabinet out of the way, Adam breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against a dusty desk and looked at Ronan with raised eyebrows. Ronan tossed him a bottle of water, which he caught awkwardly but still opened gratefully. They caught their breaths and traded the water back and forth until it was gone.

Ronan tried the office door and found it locked. He turned to Adam. "Gansey said they only gave him keys to the main doors."

"You could jimmy it?"

"Fuck that." Ronan took a step back and aimed a kick above the lock. 

The door was weak and Ronan had powerful strength in his legs and stumbled through the frame as it broke open.

The office was perfectly empty, with the exception of mice and a singular file cabinet covered in scratches too wide to be from human hands.

They carried the file cabinet outside to Gansey who then insisted they roast marshmallows over the fire and make a plan for getting the last of the stuff out of the second floor.

"I have finals and then I'm getting more hours at the shop." Adam said quietly. "I won't be much help after tonight."

Gansey frowned. "But you'll be around this summer?"

Adam shrugged and looked away.

"We'll try to get together sometime." Gansey said and he was so sure that Ronan almost believed it.

For reasons Ronan couldn't explain, he was afraid that when Gansey moved into Monmouth, their friendship would fall apart. Gansey already emptied the Pig's trunk to the first floor weeks ago and was putting everything of his together in the room they shared. Once Gansey left, he'd have to face Declan for real. He only hoped that Gansey could find something soon in the quest for Glendower to give them reason to hang out.

They had hiked around Virginia on weekends and noted places that made his electromagnetic reader flash red. There wasn't any pattern that they could see yet. Ronan wouldn't tell Gansey, but the quest was getting boring.

"Who is J-Kav?" Adam plucked Ronan's phone off the hood of the Pig where it was ringing shrilly. 

Gansey pursed his lips while Ronan rolled his eyes and didn't reach for the phone. Adam set it down, unsure what else to do.

Shortly after, a text beeped in, which Adam read out loud, monotonous. "Can I lick your ass tomorrow. Party at 11."

Only Ronan wasn't surprised by the words coming from Kavinsky. Hearing them in Adam's Henrietta accent was a different story. It didn't stop his imagination of Adam's tongue buried between his legs, which promptly turned his face bright red, unnoticeable in the dusky light. 

"Sorry. Wrong number." Adam read as another text came in. And a third. "Both offers still stand."

Adam put the phone down and bit his lip as if he'd learned something shockingly intimate he didn't want to know. Gansey frowned and his mouth slowly dropped. "I thought you weren't talking to him anymore."

"He said wrong number." Ronan defended.

"Then why do both offers still stand? What's going on between you guys?"

Ronan scratched at his hair, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of events. Kavinsky hadn't talked to him since that day in April, almost a month ago. He and Declan hadn't spoken above the required minimum that came with living under the same roof with Niall home. "Nothing is going on. He's a dick. We're not friends anymore."

"Doesn't sound like it if he's asking to lick your ass."

"What do you want from me?" Ronan's hands naturally curved into fists. "I'm done with him. I have you."

Gansey didn't say anything and Adam held his breath.

Ronan's eyes were serious and he was breathing heavier despite having stayed still. His heart was pounding and his mind was screaming that he just made a mistake, that he'd accidentally confessed his feelings that maybe he didn't want Gansey to just be a friend. That he didn't need Kavinsky because he had something better. But Ronan couldn't say it and carefully rethought his words, confirming that he didn't. 

"And Parrish." He added lamely. "I don't need anyone else."

Adam cleared his throat. "I've got to be home soon."

Gansey straightened up and fixed his shirt, taking the keys to the Camaro from his pocket. "Right. I'll take you while the fire dies down. Ronan, make sure it doesn't get out of control."

Ronan breathed a swear word and managed a small wave goodbye before the Pig roared out of the lot. 

Not long after the rumbling faded and the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the occasional car passing by, Ronan noticed a figure by the edge of the lot, close to the building. It was a pale teenager with faded yellow hair the color of some of the flowers Aurora grew in early spring that smelled like cinnamon. He didn't look threatening and didn't seem to care that Ronan was staring at him, or maybe didn't know that Ronan was there at all. Until Ronan called out to him.

"Hey!"

The boy startled and took a step away from the building, as if he hadn't just been reaching out to touch the worn brick just to see what the texture felt like.

Ronan crossed the lot in a few seconds, bringing his shoulders back and pushing away his previous thoughts. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking. Did you buy this building?" The boy said. He had on an Aglionby uniform, the crest on his left shoulder looking like the old symbol before it updated. His left sleeve was frayed a little like he'd maybe been chewing at it, or had a dog. He kept his head turned away, like something very interesting was happening over his left shoulder. Ronan could only see a flickering street light and an overflowing trashcan.

"A friend of mine did. We're burning all the shit that was in it."

"For fun?"

Ronan smirked. "Something like that. I'm Ronan."

The boy raised his hand and turned his face. Just under his left cheekbone was a bruise - a dent - grizzly and gray. Ronan, not a stranger to facial bruising after fighting so many times with Declan, didn't flinch. They shook hands. "I'm Noah."

-

That Friday, Ronan begrudgingly knocked on Declan's bedroom door. Gansey was standing shortly down the hall with his hands in his pockets, ready to coach Ronan through this conversation if he needed. And Ronan felt less inclined to anger when Gansey was watching.

Declan's door clicked unlocked and opened a few inches. "What?" There was no tone, not even annoyance. He might have been addressing a brick if Gansey couldn't see Ronan standing with his fists balled tightly at his sides.

"You should stop doing… what you do with Kavinsky." Ronan started while Declan scoffed.

"I thought we agreed I get no shit." Declan, who was stubborn, but also curious, didn't barricade himself in. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Why?"

"Because. He's a scumbag and there's easier ways to get pills than putting his diseased dick…" Ronan couldn't finish. "He's not the only way. That's all I'm saying."

Gansey nodded at his side thought Declan couldn't see him. Ronan put his hands up and walked away, not trusting himself to remain civil with Gansey right there.

Instead of being reasonable like Gansey and Ronan rehearsed, Declan's eyes narrowed and he stepped out in the hallway. "How do you know?"

"He told me. Can't keep a secret when he's high." Ronan gloated, knowing Kavinsky better than Declan but at the same time hating it. 

"It's not that easy." Declan said. His politician voice grew louder. It had been so long since they directly communicated that Ronan almost forgot that Declan had a voice like that, the kind that suggested he couldn't be wrong. It reminded him of Gansey, but Ronan had no confused emotions towards Declan.

Ronan looked at his brother, trying to see signs of anxiety, sleep-deprivation, or depression. He was the same as ever, dark, combed hair, blue eyes, sturdy brows, and worry lines in his forehead. This close, he looked more like Niall, a connection Ronan had never made before. "What does he have over you?"

"Nothing."

"Then why the fuck isn't it that easy?" 

"Forget it." 

"Do you owe him? We do have money, Dec."

Declan retreated into his room. "I said forget it." His door slammed closed.

Niall climbed the stairs and crossed him arms on the landing. Ronan froze and Gansey politely greeted him. "Brotherly squabble, I assure you. Nothing to worry about."

"I should hope not." Niall said. As he passed to the master bedroom, he dropped his hand on Ronan's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "Goodnight, boys."

-

Summer arrived with a rainstorm and twelve days of pure sun during the day with no clouds. Gansey adopted an even tan the more time he and Ronan spent outside tossing a football around the fields, and Ronan got burnt. His ears, nose, and shoulders peeled with flaky skin, which Gansey agreed to stock up on lotion just to ensure that the rest of Ronan's skin wouldn't fall off.

The last of Aglionby finals sent the out of town boys back home and on exotic vacations to foreign names. The locals remained but had few reasons to make it into town. Gansey, though fully moved into Monmouth despite the last corner of abandoned fifty-year-old boxes left untouched since they were not in the way, spent his days at the Barns with Ronan.

Adam Parrish was around, but not very often and for few hours at a time. Once they set up a projector and watched a movie on the giant wall at Monmouth, trading snacks and Adam, holding his hand over his neck and jaw to hide bruises. Ronan saw the greenish shapes, in the healing stages, but didn't say anything. When June came, with more heat and sunburns, Adam couldn't get away at all.

The first week of June, a white car pulled into the lot of Monmouth, blaring music that made the inside of Ronan's ears buzz. No one got out right away, and Ronan was too overheated by the sun to care.

He was sitting on the top of the stairs on the outside, the only side that had shade this time of day, four in the afternoon. The landing was safe to sit on because it was supported by iron bars drilled into the wall, but the few steps below were rotten and wooden and broken. If Ronan leaned forward, he could see the spot of dead grass he would hit face first, twenty feet below. Gansey was inside, taping a map on the wall they used to project movies from his laptop and marking where he'd found a statue in the woods of north Virginia of a bird - a raven, likely - with its head missing and the Welsh word for 'king' scratched into the carved feathers on its neck. The picture Gansey showed him revealed the bird to be ugly, disproportioned, and partially covered in moss that was a gross shade of brown. Inside was hotter than outside by Ronan's standards. Gansey was also sweating, his hairline turning damp, his neck flushed pink, his shirt clinging to his chest and abs.

Ronan put his head in his arms and tried not to think about how last time it had been this hot, Gansey had just slipped out of his shirt and walked around the rest of the day as if he was trying to short-circuit Ronan's brain every time he moved.

"I thought you were always cold. Don't tell me those are sweat stains in your pits," Kavinsky shouted up, having gotten out of the car.

"Fuck you." Ronan grumbled.

He watched as Kavinsky lit up a cigarette and stepped on the first stair, sending his foot straight through, breaking the wood in half. He shrugged like he hadn't actually wanted to ascend.

"No, thanks, your brother already took care of that." 

Kavinsky chuckled and casually leaned against the wall on the ground level. His head tipped back and his neck exposed, Kavinsky's body had gotten leaner since their finals week, the last time Ronan had seen him. Outside of school, Kavinsky kept to muscle tees and skinny jeans, which is what he wore now. There were hickeys down his collars, and new lines of muscles had grown on his arms and chest. In the ear Ronan could see were two new silver studs.

"What are you doing here then?"

"No, I asked you a question. I thought you were always cold."

Ronan grit his teeth. "I just hate the sun. I'm Irish."

Kavinsky flicked his cigarette. "Come on, babe, you should be loving this weather. There really is nothing like sex this time of year. I never figured it out, who's on top? You or Dick?"

Ronan glanced inside Monmouth and wished he hadn't. Gansey was wiping sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. The trail of hair leading into his pants turned whatever Ronan was thinking about into what it would be like to push Gansey into a wall and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. 

"I knew it was Dick. Anyway. This here is your formal invitation to fourth of July."

"That's a month away."

Kavinsky tossed his cigarette and smothered it with the toe of his shoe. "I like to plan things early. Gonna be a real hit this year. The usual place. I'll see you and Gansey there."

Last fourth of July, Ronan got drunk and let Kavinsky give him a handjob in his car, and when Ronan threw up from alcohol and guilt and couldn't return the favor, K proceeded to fuck Swan in the backseat. A week later, Ronan settled his debt in the bathroom of Nino's on his knees, with Kavinsky's hands gripping hard in his hair. 

Thinking about it made Ronan want to puke. That was all they'd ever done and all they would ever do, Ronan swore. 

Kavinsky headed back for his car.

Ronan called out, "Where do you get the pills?"

Kavinsky turned around, flipping Ronan off with both hands. He shouted back, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

-


	6. Chapter 6

"I think we should get a fridge up here." Gansey said. "I can't live on chips and cereal forever."

Noah whined a long, "Noooo" and Ronan threw his shoe. "Do you mind?" Noah groaned and threw himself on Gansey's bed. "I'm mourning the loss of my chip diet."

Ronan sat back with a chuckle and between Gansey's legs and let him continue rubbing aloe on the burns Ronan couldn't reach on his back. They'd gone hiking, finding nothing other than a nice view and cold river, where they swam in their shorts for hours and Ronan got sunburned everywhere above his hips and sliced open one of his toes on a sharp rock he couldn't see. It had been worth it, to see the naked curve of Gansey's back, the knobs of his spine, as he shucked his cargo shorts and the boat shoes he wore everywhere.

"Stay still." Gansey said and Ronan obeyed.

They were in the bathroom, Gansey perched on the toilet and Ronan on the floor. There was enough room for a refrigerator and between the three of them, they could connect it quite easily. 

"If you're crying, go to your room." Ronan called when Noah gasped and crushed a bag of plain corn chips they'd gotten on sale the week before.

Noah moved in shortly after Gansey met him, though to be fair, Gansey offered one of the offices the day they met. They went to a hardware store the next day and Gansey made them each copies of the keys. They spent most of the days together, Ronan leaving at night to appease Aurora and Niall.

And it was easier to hide the things Ronan dreamt with now that Gansey was moved out and now that Ronan admitted to himself that he really liked Gansey. Some of it was useful, like a set of silverware and a mug that didn't let its contents cool below a certain temperature. "It's insulated really well," Ronan explained, giving it to Gansey. Some of the other things were not, like the broken chair and a white muscle tee peppered with bloody fingerprints (from the day Kavinsky handed him a bag with exactly five small blue pills), or the rusted crown that could have been from the 1400s (from the day Gansey got so excited telling him a particularly vivid myth about Glendower that he grabbed Ronan's hands across the table at Nino's and gave them a shake), or the plastic grocery bag full of dead bees (from the day a wasp was batting against the windows of Monmouth in a poor attempt to escape and Gansey nearly packed up all his stuff, prepared to move back into Ronan's bedroom). 

Gansey capped the aloe and gave a final swipe over Ronan's shoulders. "That should help. We'll have to watch your foot and make sure it doesn't get infected."

"It won't." Ronan said, wincing as he stood. 

"You don't know that."

Ronan shrugged. "Thanks for fixing me up."

"No problem, really. Hey, check me?" Gansey turned his back and pulled off his shirt in a swift motion that took Ronan's breath away.

Ronan made for the door, glancing quickly at Gansey's back, trying not to memorize the pattern of freckles or the movement of his shoulder blades. "Tan as ever. Have you ever sunburnt in your life?"

"Not recently." Gansey supplied, spinning to the bathtub. He and Ronan found it on the curb driving through Henrietta and moved it in within the hour. "I'm going to shower. Have Noah start a grocery list."

"Does he even eat? I swear he's carried around the same bag of chips the past two days." Ronan stared at water stains on the walls and the peeling paint, ignoring Gansey stepping out of his shorts.

"Maybe he likes to carry bags of chips around. At least he's not crazy."

"He still could be. We only met him a week ago."

"True."

Ronan closed the door just as Gansey's hands slipped into the edges of his boxers. His face was on fire, and not because of the heat. When had his crush gotten so serious? Everything Gansey did was magical and he was nice to look at and was polite and Declan didn't hate him.

Noah was still lying on Gansey's bed, cradling his bag of chips. His hair covered his eyes, but he blinked some of it away when Ronan crawled up next to him. They both heaved sighs, tired after their day.

"I'm not crazy." Noah whispered. Fingers combed through the ends of Ronan's hair, cold on his skin despite the heat.

"I know." Ronan replied. 

He leaned into Noah's hand, savoring the inexplicable coolness. Before long, Noah threw his leg around Ronan's and scooted closer, crushing the bag of chips between them. Had this been Gansey, Ronan would have shied away at the intimacy, tried to hide the blush spreading down his chest, hidden by his sunburn. But Noah felt collected and safe, like he only needed the touch and none of the emotions, which was easier for them both to handle. Ronan didn't have any particularly loud feelings for Noah, other than he's good to be near when it's hot as hell. His touch was like heaven on his bare skin.

Noah shifted the pillow and their foreheads dipped into each other. The cool hand in his hair drifted down and settled on the back of his neck, thumb resting on the pulse below Ronan's jaw. If Ronan moved his chin just right, he could kiss Noah's lips. It was only a few inches away.

He'd never kissed Kavinsky and never wanted to. Only his family but that hardly counted. The girl he asked to the seventh grade dance had also been a contender for the first kiss, but she abandoned him for some other boy who ended up moving to California for high school. Since then, Ronan accepted that he didn't quite like girls the way Declan did and didn't put a lot of thought into his first kiss.

Recently, however, he frequently imagined Gansey's mouth on his. He would taste like peppermint toothpaste and the forests they explored together and the promise of magic.

Before Ronan could stop imagining, Noah's fingertips guided his chin up. Their lips met on their held breaths, and Ronan's pulse fluttered. The kiss was gentle and unassuming, soft and very real.

Noah pulled away after a moment and dug his hand back into Ronan's curly hair. He chuckled to himself and moved his body closer. Their foreheads still pressed together, mouths still close. Ronan couldn't think about anything other than taste of Noah's lips on his.

"I'm sorry." Noah said quietly.

"Why?" Ronan breathed. He risked a glance, afraid he'd find some sort of regret on the other boy's face, but there was only a dizzy smile. Ronan's heart squeezed tight when he dropped another quick kiss at the corner of Noah's mouth because he could. This was okay, he thought. This was good.

"I thought you were saving that for Gansey."

Ronan quirked part of his mouth to a smile, too delighted and hormonal to be anything else. "Nah," he said, swallowing over his doubt. "That would have been too much pressure."

The running water in the bathroom shut off and Noah rolled onto his back, staring up at the high ceiling with his gray eyes. His chest fell with an exhale that was partially laughter. "Yeah. But if you were saving that for someone else, I am sorry."

"Don't be." Ronan flipped over, throwing his elbow over his eyes. "I'm glad it was you."

-

Noah turned out to be exactly who they expected. A normal kid who found his Aglionby uniform especially comfortable and rarely wore anything else and was excitable and was good company. Gansey did his research into refrigerators and rented a truck to go pick one up with Ronan and Noah sitting in the bed, talking with Gansey on the way through the square window in the cab. Ronan held the straps and bungee cords in his lap and Noah was next to him, pressing his icy hand on the red skin of Ronan's neck.

His burns hurt and he'd started slathering on sunblock before he went outside, even for the briefest of journeys. Gansey got tanner, Noah stayed pale, and Ronan got red. No one in the Lynch boys were immune. Declan's face and upper shoulders were bright, marked with inconvenient tan lines where his tank top covered him. Matthew started swimming lessons and looked similar to Ronan. Niall had peeling ears and the top of his head because he decided he liked his shaved hair.

Gansey pulled into the lot of the department store and disappeared to talk some staff members into loading the fridge into the truck. Ronan and Noah moved to the shaded overhang next to the piles of lumber and potted plants. They sat on a stack of long planks and watched people flocking into the store where there was a sale on ceiling fans and light fixtures.

Since their shared kiss, their first secret, Ronan's laughter came easily and confident. He hadn't known he thought about Kavinsky a lot until he saw a bottle of a medication Gansey was on and was abruptly reminded that he was supposed to be upset. But it was hard to be. When Noah kissed him, not even romantically, he knew he would be okay. Niall used to say a kiss is a promise, don't do it unless you mean it, and he went on to bring Aurora's hand to his beard and touch his lips to her knuckles, just before her wedding ring.

Ronan didn't know what the promise between him and Noah was, and he didn't quite care. Noah showed affection like it was free. He looped arms with whoever he was walking with and touched their hair and nuzzled his face in the crook of their neck. The last movie night they had when they watched a documentary about Stonehenge projected on the last clear wall of Monmouth, the one with the fewest stains and missing peels of paint, Noah sat between the two of them on Gansey's bed and insisted they have a sleepover. The next morning, Ronan felt Noah's arm and leg tossed carelessly over his, Noah's face resting against his back, pressing slow open mouthed kisses into his skin. Gansey, curled around Noah's back, slept for more than three hours that night.

Noah was good for them.

But useless at heavy lifting. Literally. He watched and called orders as Ronan and Gansey wrestled the fridge up the stairs and into the bathroom. Between the two athletes and the oppressive heat, they were both panting by the time they set it up next to the toilet. They high-fived and caught their breaths, Gansey sitting on the toilet, Ronan on the edge of the bathtub, and Noah on the sink. 

"It's supposed to rain next week." Noah announced.

"Thank the lord." Ronan groaned, wiping his forehead with his arm. "What day?"

"Thursday."

Gansey's face lit up. "We should go look for that bird statue on Wednesday. I want to see if there's anything else in that area, I didn't get a chance to look."

Noah was very quiet when Gansey talked about Glendower. He didn't like being alone in forests, or being alone in general. He liked the stories but didn't seem sold on the idea that they were real - that Gansey's life was dedicated to the impossible. To something that may not have been real.

Or that was how Ronan saw it. Ronan didn't care either way if Glendower was sleeping underground in Henrietta. Glendower got him Gansey and Noah and away from Kavinsky. If he was real, Ronan thought, he was going to shake that king's hand and thank him.

-

Ronan woke up with a choking breath, holding a copy of the shirt Gansey was wearing yesterday. It smelled like mint and was warm from his body heat when Ronan lifted it off in the dream. Ronan threw it in his closet on the pile he'd created over the last couple weeks, all polos. He missed when Gansey slept only a few feet away. 

There wasn't a lot of light as it was cloudy and on the verge of raining, but Ronan wasn't going back to sleep. He showered and dressed, finally able to put on clothes without aggravating his sunburns. Due to Noah's cold hands ("poor circulation" he straight up giggled when Ronan asked him) and Gansey's aloe treatments, he considered himself healed physically and still hated the sun. June heat was not worth this kind of suffering. He didn't tan like Gansey did.

Going downstairs, there was a note on the kitchen table in Niall's blocky writing.

"Called on business - three days max. Love. NL"

Ronan traced a finger over the letters, feeling the indents of Niall's initials. How long ago had he left? Grabbing a breakfast bar out of the box clearly labeled "Declan" he went to the sitting room and peeked out the window.

The BMW was in the driveway.

Niall always took the BMW when he left. He claimed a fear of flying and drove everywhere but there was the charcoal gray car, shadowed under the weather, the driver's side door open a crack. Maybe the note wasn't that old. Maybe Niall was just leaving. But the car wasn't moving and Ronan couldn't see well enough into the tinted windows to tell if there was someone in the driver's seat. 

Ronan's stomach tightened and he put down his bar and stepped into a pair of old shoes. There was dew on the ground, misted with the light rain beginning to fall. 

Down the porch, Ronan's hands began to sweat, ice gripping his heart, blood rushing through his ears. There should have been more sounds outside. From the highway, from the animals in the barn, from the creek that ran through one of the fields, even the rain. But there was nothing - the memory of sound, paused in time.

Fear. Ronan thought suddenly. This is what fear was. It had been so long since his last nightmare, since he was last truly afraid. 

He hesitated at the first spray of blood. On the ground, across the hood of the car, down the tire. Niall Lynch lay collapsed on the cement, his own blood seeping into his clothes.

Ronan's heart seized and he fell to his knees, hard. He crawled to his father desperately feeling for any signs of life, but Ronan knew immediately there was no chance. He jerked his father's shoulder and tears, hot and wet, dripped down his face. There was no voice, no strength enough to scream or call for help.

Ronan knelt there with his father's head in his lap for an hour, too overwhelmed to move at all. Until Declan came over, shivering in the cold rain, ready for an argument, breathed a short "fuck" and ran back to the house, stopping along the way to vomit.

Police arrived within half an hour and Ronan still hadn't moved. His legs were numb and bloody and everything was wet with tears and rain and his father was dead. Two officers lifted Ronan by the arms and he nearly fell when they guided him to the porch. He grabbed Matthew around the shoulders and held him as tightly as he could manage without being able to feel his arms. Matthew was crying quietly, holding Ronan just as tight. Declan was pale and had not stopped vomiting.

Aurora did not wake up.

-

Monmouth had a slow morning. Gansey cuddled into Noah's back since he hadn't gotten around to getting an air conditioning unit for the building yet, and got a few hours of sleep after Gansey finished a book about mythology around four AM. The gray morning, sticky with humidity made it even harder for Gansey to untangle his limbs from Noah's. The boy had very little of his own body heat and didn’t seem to mind being used for his lack of warmth. Come winter, Gansey thought idly, Noah might be telling a different story.

But they got up in the afternoon, sharing part of a leftover pizza for lunch. Or Gansey did. Noah picked up his piece and it slipped out of his fingers and he claimed to lose his appetite. Not long after, they settled in companionable solitude.

Gansey was reading on his bed and Noah was running the length of Monmouth on his skateboard, practicing flips and sharp turns when he grew very quiet. He jumped off the skateboard and casually walked over to the desk where Gansey's phone rested next to his wallet and keys to the Pig. Noah picked up the phone and held it in both of his hands, watching the screen intently.

"Waiting for a call?" Gansey joked, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

Noah didn't look up. "Yes, actually."

"Important?" Gansey laughed through a yawn.

"Yes." Noah said, so seriously that Gansey was taken aback. Soon Gansey was sitting on the edge of his bed, also watching his phone.

A minute later, the screen lit up with Ronan's name. Noah offered it to Gansey without a word, lifting his sleeve to his mouth and chewing on the fray nervously.

Gansey swiped his thumb to answer, feeling nervous. "Ronan." He said.

It was not the usual Ronan who responded. "Gansey," was all he said. Voices sounded in the background, muffled like playing through a recording. Ronan sniffed.

This was wrong. Getting to his feet, Gansey stuffed his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the keys. Noah was standing at the door already. Gansey waited another second to see if his friend would say anything else. 

Nothing. 

"Ronan, what happened?" 

"Fuck, Gansey," Ronan sobbed and the call ended.

Gansey ran down the stairs at Noah's heels and raced to the Pig, throwing it into gear and headed for the Barns.


	7. Chapter 7

The radio was too loud and the air conditioning was not strong enough to counter the humidity from the rain. Ronan had a bottle of whiskey between his legs. His hands were fists, still stained with dried blood in the cracks of his fingernails, Niall's blood. His jaw was clenching and he was trying hard to contain his tears. 

Gansey made helpless eye contact with Noah in the rearview mirror and gripped the steering wheel, unsure what to say. Ronan's hands were shaking and he let out a small whimper, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing hot tears down his face. They didn't speak on the way to Monmouth. There was nothing that could be said - or there was nothing that Ronan wanted to hear.

Ronan swore under his breath, a half-hearted curse laced with denial and anger. He took a long drink of the whiskey and covered his red-rimmed eyes with his hands. "I'm getting piss ass drunk as fuck." He announced to the window. His words were barely audible over the thrumming of rain and the Pig's engine.

Gansey nodded. "We won't stop you."

Ronan swallowed another gulp of whiskey, holding back another sob. He tried to keep his voice steady but he couldn't help the cracks and stutters. "The will reading is t-tomorrow." He hiccupped and his knuckles turned white. "Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over, Gansey."

Gansey drifted the car on the gravel shoulder of the road and before the car was stopped, Ronan threw his door open and retched into the ditch. His shoulders heaved and he coughed, deep and gross, spitting bile between his feet.

Carefully, Noah weaved an arm between the seat and the open door and placed his palm on the back of Ronan's neck. His fingers combed over burning sweaty skin, tight with a tension that hadn't existed before. Ronan spat once more and shrugged off Noah's hand, slamming the door shut. Gansey shifted and started driving again.

Ronan's blue eyes were dark and red and he took another swig, taking the bottle down to less than a third full. He coughed and Gansey thought he might throw up, but Ronan kept it down. "Tomorrow at noon. Wake me up and - g-get me to… to the Barns."

"Sure thing." Gansey said.

When they arrived at Monmouth, Ronan was still weak on his feet. He shuffled to the door and pushed inside, a fresh wave of tears starting.

Noah made to follow him but Gansey grabbed his arm. "What are we supposed to do, Noah?"

"I don't know. I was just gonna sit with him or break stuff with him to make him feel better." Noah shrugged and looked at his feet. He chewed on the fray of his sleeve when Gansey didn't immediately suggest an alternative.

How do you comfort a friend when his father's blood was still on his hands and knees and his mother was alive but not awake and his brothers were too distant and too overwhelmed themselves? Gansey thought about his own father, outside of Washington DC. He should call home sometime, or make a visit one weekend. Now that school was out, he should have made time for them, and for Helen.

Noah went inside and Gansey stood in the rain a moment longer. Ronan should be with his family. People who knew him longer than seven months. But Ronan called him and asked to stay with him for the night. Declan and Matthew were going to stay at a relative's house. Gansey couldn't remember which one but Declan put a note on his phone with some important phone numbers and addresses, just in case.

Ronan was on the floor, sitting cross legged at Noah's feet. The whisky bottle was empty and rolling across the hardwood floor like it had been tossed only seconds ago. Noah was setting down a small trash can by Ronan's knee and dragging Gansey's desk chair with his other hand.

Noah sat down and dipped his fingers into Ronan's wet hair, drawing the heat from Ronan's head. Noah swept over Ronan's hair, section by section, finding the natural part and pulling out the knots first with all his long fingers in long strokes and then with more precise thumbs and forefingers. Noah had sisters and knew how to care for hair. Ronan was silent, keening into the touch, letting his curly hair be groomed without the obligation to speak. 

A minute later, Gansey scooted in front of Ronan and offered him an unopened bottle of vodka that Helen gave him when he moved out of their parents' house. He hadn't touched it and honestly forgot about it until he realized that Ronan could use it more than he could. Greedily, Ronan drank.

Gansey also had a bowl of water and a washcloth with him. He reached for one of Ronan's hands and began to gently scrub off Niall's blood, which had dried into the fine hairs on his arms and into the tiny wrinkles of his hands, in the valleys of his knuckles, the cracks of his . Ronan watched numbly and closed his eyes. 

By the time Ronan's hair was soft and dry from Noah's work, he'd stopped crying. The violent shudders and flashes of red and the sickening feeling of absolute terror could not be helped, and Ronan periodically had to pull his hand away from Gansey to hold the trash can to vomit. When he did, Noah held his palm to Ronan's neck to keep him cool. And when Ronan settled again, often after a choking noise and a large sip of vodka, Gansey reached for his hand and continued cleaning him.

When that was done, Noah sat on the toilet propping his chin up with his hands while Ronan showered and Gansey collected the bloody clothes and prepared them to soak in the laundry. Gansey got out a set of Ronan's clothes, left from a previous visit and gave them, along with a clean towel, to Noah to hold until Ronan was done. The vodka only had a few shots left and when Noah claimed to be a schnapps man, Gansey swallowed the rest of it while taking the bottle to the recycling.

An hour later, Ronan was clean and drunk and empty. Gansey watched sadly as Noah helped Ronan into his own room where he passed out on Noah's bed in seconds.

-

Gansey and Noah sat on the porch of the Barns and waited for the brothers and two lawyers to exit the house. Ronan tried to let them in but Declan snapped at them that this was for family only, to which Noah replied "ouch" and Declan slammed the door behind him.

The ground was wet and muddy from the rain, not unlike the day Gansey saw Ronan walking down the side of the highway with his tennis bag over his shoulder, shivering. Gansey was abruptly reminded that that Ronan would be changed forever. Across the yard, Gansey tried not to look at the police tape, at the stain of rust on the cement pad where the BMW had been parked, where Ronan's life turned upside down. Noah was poking a stick into the soft mud and drawing lines, triangles with long sweeping arcs where the grass didn't grow. Aurora placed a giant potted plant there in early spring and once when Gansey and Ronan were coming back from Monmouth, each jiggling their legs with a need to pee, Gansey beat Ronan to the door (which he locked with a hysterical snort) and the bathroom, leaving Ronan to swear animatedly and piss in the plant.

The memory made Gansey smile, and Noah put his head on Gansey's shoulder.

They'd been waiting nearly two hours in silence until, inside, something glass shattered. They turned around to find Ronan standing there with two duffel bags, unzipped and overflowing like he'd thrown everything from his room that he could manage into these bags. His nose was purple and a drop of blood was dripping into his lip. He sniffed twice and nodded to Gansey. 

"Let’s go." He said.

"Wait, what happened?" Gansey hopped off the steps and chased after Ronan who was halfway to the Pig.

Ronan threw his bags into the trunk. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and his face fell at the sight of the bright red line. He swallowed hard. "I can't come back here."

Noah tipped his head. "If you give it time, maybe it won't-"

"No." Ronan looked up at them, eyes blazing. His plain t-shirt from Aglionby tennis was forming dark spots with sweat and the pockets of his jeans looked full of miscellaneous small things. "I mean, I am legally not allowed to come back."

Gansey's forehead wrinkled. He touched his temple with two fingers. "What about Declan and Matthew?"

"None of us are allowed back." Ronan lashed. His palm slapped the trunk of the Pig, hard enough to sting up through his whole arm. "They're moving into Aglionby. My mom is in a coma. They're keeping her here and hiring nurses. The funeral is on Monday. Now can we please fucking leave?"

They didn't argue with him, too shocked to do so. It went unsaid that Ronan would move in with the boys. There was the other office next to Noah's that Gansey was too lazy to claim. The only problem was it didn't have a bed yet, or anything else that would deem it as an acceptable bedroom except a set of dusty curtains.

Once Ronan shut himself in the empty office at Monmouth, swearing at everything and nothing, Gansey allowed himself to repeat some of Ronan's favorite words. He sat on his bed and sighed when Noah's arms wrapped around his middle.

"What are we supposed to do?" Gansey breathed.

Ronan threw something heavy at the wall, followed by another punctuated swear. 

Noah didn't have an answer. He let Gansey go and gingerly touched the spot under his left eye. A birthmark, he explained once, and they never asked about it again. 

Soon, Ronan stomped into the bathroom and washed his face and his hands. He demanded alcohol or else he threatened to start breaking windows. Gansey saw the blisters on his knuckles then, scraped raw from Declan's face and the brick wall in his new room.

Noah produced a bottle and withheld it out of Ronan's reach until Ronan sat obediently between Noah's legs and let him comb through his hair again. Halfway through, Ronan started sobbing, jerking with harsh memories.

-

Cool night air did nothing to help the burning in Ronan's chest. He wasn't feeling angry in particular and although he'd taken Gansey's razor to his head and buzzed off the majority of his dark hair, he was still overheated. His tank was damp and probably smelled but he couldn't make himself care enough to change. He wasn't seeking impressive company.

"Well, well, well. I like the new look, babe." Kavinsky pulled into the lot, the windows of his white Mitsubishi all rolled down. No music from the radio.

Ronan got in, conscious of how round his head was, how hollow his face had become.

"Anywhere in particular you want to go?" Kavinsky asked, lighting a cigarette before taking off. Ronan shook his head. A beat of silence passed before Kavinsky said, "Sorry about your pops."

"No you're fucking not."

"You're right. But that's the kind of thing friends are supposed to say." 

They drove out of town, towards the highway. Kavinsky turned up the heater like he always did when Ronan didn't reach for it. Shortly after, Ronan twisted the knob back the other way, turning it off. 

"We're not friends."

Kavinsky scoffed. "Excuse you. Do friends get up in the middle of the fucking night for road trips to nowhere?"

"It's not to nowhere. I need," Ronan frowned, voice falling in weakness. "Have you been seeing Declan?"

"Only to supply him with a new set of pills. Boy did his prescription change since his last pickup." Kavinsky clicked his tongue. "Now it's all the strong stuff, so good it should be illegal."

Ronan gripped the armrest hard. "Dealing drugs is illegal."

"Prescriptions." Kavinsky corrected.

"Still illegal. You're not a fucking pharmacist."

He reached for the radio and Ronan slapped his wrist away. Kavinsky hummed and tapped his fingers on the wheel, his other hand settling on top of the shift. Wind whipped through the open windows and blew through Kavinsky's black hair, trimmed on the sides and long on the top. A pair of sunglasses hung from the low collar of his tank, damp with sweat between his pecs and the words of a new tattoo Ronan hadn't seen before. K's dark eyes blinked slowly at the road, head swaying to a song only he could hear.

"If it makes you feel better, he pays in cash now. Haven't fucked in a month. Haven't fucked him, I should say. Jiang has quite the stamina let me tell you. I don't miss Dec."

"Gross." Ronan said. "I want whatever you're giving Declan."

"That's not safe babe, I thought you were clean." Kavinsky mocked, sounding disinterested, but his foot weighed down on the gas pedal, raising the speed. He sighed and threw his cigarette out the window. "What do you want?"

Ronan firmed his resolve, daring to look Kavinsky in the eyes. "I want to sleep without having to blackout. I don't want to remember. I don't want to dream. I don't want to feel. I don't want to feel fucking anything."

-


	8. Chapter 8

Gansey woke in the middle of the night, legs tangled in a sheet, the standing fan blowing hot air on his face. He'd dreamt about a grave with a locked coffin and hadn't the faintest idea what it could mean. Since Niall died two weeks ago, Gansey's dreams, when he had them, starred in cemeteries and often featured his own body, withering away while his friends and family watched. Sometimes he woke with panic attacks, unable to breathe until Noah dragged him outside and held his hands and face until he calmed down. Other times, he woke convinced there was a bug crawling up his arm, its legs calculating a number of steps before plunging in with a stinger.

The search for Glendower was put on hold, but that didn't stop him from looking over his journal every night, and examining the large map on the wall. To pass the time while Ronan mourned in his own way, becoming less approachable day by day, Gansey collected the boxes of cereal he'd gone through and cut them up, gluing them into forms of houses he'd seen and liked in Henrietta. He'd created a small neighborhood already and was convincing himself he'd have to do every street and every house and every building in town because he loved everything about Henrietta. If nothing else, it passed the time when he couldn't sleep.

He rolled over and jumped at the sight of Ronan standing on the other side of his bed. His eyebrows were tragic slashes on his pale forehead, a black cap backwards on his head covering his viciously short hair, and his face looked thinner than Gansey had ever seen it despite the short beard he was growing. Ronan hadn't been eating well, if he was eating at all, and was so used to the routine of drowning his sorrow in alcohol that it was strange seeing him standing at full height, towering above Gansey.

Gansey wasn't stupid and knew that Ronan snuck out with Kavinsky. Often. Ronan wasn't exactly quiet when he returned, either drunker than when he left, or too exhausted to care that he was loud. Once, Kavinsky himself dragged Ronan up the stairs, forced him to throw up by shoving his fingers down Ronan's throat, and threw him on Gansey's bed, howling a love song in a poor Irish accent on his way out.

"I took something." Ronan said, failing to mention the source of his something. Gansey already hated Kavinsky and didn't need another reason. "And I can't sleep."

Sitting up, Gansey patted the empty space to his side where Noah sometimes took naps. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"No." Ronan tucked his legs under himself and handed Gansey a worn paperback book.

Alice in Wonderland.

Gansey flipped open the cover and a few pages, flattening out the folded corners. "You want me to read it to you?"

Ronan picked at the laces on his boots and untied them. "Yeah," he said softly, dropping his boots to the floor. 

Noah appeared in the dark shadow of his room and curled up at Gansey's feet. He tried to lay his head between Ronan's knees but Ronan shifted away, pulling his legs into his chest. Noah wasn't offended at the action and settled.

"My dad used to read this to us. Said it was the only book he ever bought." Ronan said to himself. This time, it was not accompanied with any tears or a cracked voice or trailing off.

Gansey held the book a little looser, as though the pages might feel different now that he knew this had belonged to Niall Lynch. They were yellow and well-used and well-loved, marked in some places with pencil underlines and stars next to certain paragraphs.

Gansey started to read until Ronan's dark eyelashes closed and his breath came steady and even. He wasn't asleep. His fingers tapped on his elbow with the cadence of words, with phrases he was familiar with. 

He read and read until his voice became hoarse and until whatever was in Ronan's system wore off and he finally huffed through the urge to cry. Gansey closed the book when Ronan's dug himself under Gansey's covers and fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Ronan clicked his tongue at a dog running through the trees in his mind, trying to lure it back to him. He'd been throwing a track and field baton and the dog, a fluffy white thing the size of a small bear, was fetching it back until it ran away and didn't stop. The girl in his dreams wasn't there today, though last time she'd been sitting on a half-built tree house asking in Latin if Ronan wanted to play. He brought pieces of a plastic tea set out of that dream and presented them to Noah as something he'd found on a walk. Noah knew Ronan didn't take walks for the sake of walking but didn't call him out.

The dog was running and Ronan chased after it, his heart pounding with exercise. He missed tennis. Missed sports. Missed boxing. Missed his father. Though he'd gotten over his tears for the most part, he still couldn't control the weight of the world on his chest sometimes, or the punctuated pressure behind his eyes, or the dreams about rivers of blood. 

Nothing horribly violent had come out of his dreams. He wasn't having nightmares, just landscapes of fear and memories that felt real enough to care about, even after he was solidly awake. 

The dog ran into a junkyard and disappeared behind a mountain of flattened cars and sheet metal and twisted chain-link fences. Ronan poked around, finding an EMF reader like Gansey's, a few padlocks with mismatched keys, and hubcaps taller than Ronan was with holes that were likely unintentional wide enough to fit his head through. This strange collection of broken and useless stuff reminded Ronan of the locked room at the Barns, where Niall stored most of the things he dreamt. Gansey never found out about it, and what he did see and question was easily explicable with a small lie. They didn't spend a lot of time at the Barns outside of Ronan's room, so it didn't matter that much.

But it did.

Gansey might understand more if he knew that almost everything in the Lynch house wasn't there by chance. It wasn't chance that the appliances didn't need to be plugged in or that lightbulbs never needed to be changed, nothing ever broke, radios never had static. It wasn't chance that Ronan inherited this gift. It wasn't chance that someone had killed Niall Lynch.

The idea of murder didn't sit well with Ronan. If someone would kill Niall for it, someone could kill Ronan for it. It explained a lot, when Ronan thought about it - why he left for such long periods of time, so whoever was looking for him couldn't find him. That explained why Niall was so deft on teaching them to fight as children - for all the good it got him in the end, brothers that physically expressed their disdain for the other and a comatose wife, it was a good idea. Despite turning up dead.

Declan had a gun. Ronan knew because Niall dreamed it. There was nothing special about it because the less Declan knew the better. Since Niall's death, the brothers hadn't spoken aside from the reading of the will. The funeral was tense and tragic and silent. 

No one had to know that Ronan already violated the rules of the will. Kavinsky gave Ronan a bottle of medium sized white pills and dropped Ronan off at the driveway of the Barns, disappearing to a party he had to get to. Ronan pocketed his new prescription, jimmied the back door of the house, took Niall's spare keys and drove the BMW to a 24-hour parking lot and walked back to Monmouth with a new secret.

Ronan grew distracted by his thoughts of the BMW. He should tell somebody, but who would care? He had the car now. Kavinsky could have stolen it and given Ronan the keys. Technically, it still belonged to the Lynches, so Ronan was in the clear.

The dog trotted out of the junk carrying a metal stick in its mouth, tail wagging proudly. Ronan squatted and called the dog over, seeing that the stick was actually a tire iron.

He held his breath and took the iron. It was sticky with sappy blood. Ronan's stomach constricted, forgetting that this was a dream. He ran to where the dog came from and nearly tripped over Niall's mangled body, face smashed in. Big black birds as tall as Ronan's knees tugged at Niall's suit with their beaks, tearing the fabric into strips. 

Ronan beat at the birds, aiming for their faces, cracking their beaks, kicking them as they set him as their new target. He screamed at them and swatted at them and swung the tire iron, electricity cracking through his veins. 

"Ronan!" 

The orphan girl was there, standing with the dog. She called his name and pointed to the sky.

Ronan thrust off one of the birds and looked up. His right arm was bleeding from a long wound. The sky was twisted gray and purple, the beginnings of a tornado or rain storm.

"Ronan!"

This time, it was Noah.

He was kneeling across from Ronan, braced cautiously with one hand on the tire iron still in Ronan's hand and the other held out in defense. Noah's eyes were dark and he looked more intense than Ronan had ever seen him. His face wasn't so pale and his birthmark wasn't nearly as noticeable. He could have calmed a dragon with the deliberate set of his mouth, the mouth Ronan had kissed only two weeks earlier, and his steadiness. Ronan released the iron.

A bird flapped up from Ronan's other side and flew straight for Noah. With his weapon, Noah smacked the bird once, so strong the bird didn't even cry out as it flopped onto the floor, dead.

Ronan covered his face, finding tears he hadn't remembered feeling or wanting. He sat up. "Where's Gansey?"

"Not here." Noah said, and Ronan relaxed. He wasn't ready to explain to Gansey and Noah didn't ask, either because he knew or didn't want to. 

"Fuck," Ronan exhaled. He wiped his cheeks and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. He forgot that he shaved it off and sighed. Instead, he scratched over his two-day beard, not thinking that that was what Niall used to do.

"You keep cutting your hair." Noah announced, like Ronan didn't know.

Ronan's nostrils flared. "I'm going to shower. Do you have more vodka?"

Noah's face fell and he looked at his hands. "I miss your hair."

Ronan climbed out of Gansey's bed and went to the bathroom. When he finished his shower, Gansey was back but too infuriatingly distracted by something Glendower related and Noah was gone. In his room was a bottle of cherry-flavored vodka and a note in Noah's childish writing that said "this was the only kind left".

-

Declan and Matthew shared an apartment-style dorm on Aglionby campus. They lived on the first floor since most of the dorms were empty over the summer with the exception of the few international students who were pursuing internships and jobs or didn't want to return home. They had no neighbors and generally didn't make a lot of noise, so they often surprised the maintenance staff when either of them made an appearance outside their room.

Matthew didn't cry a lot. Being the youngest, he had the fewest memories of Niall. Aurora's loss hurt him more. He tried to talk Declan into just going for a visit, but Declan refused, and Matthew had to settle for calling the nurses and asking for updates. He called daily and developed a close relationship with a particular nurse Laura, who worked Monday through Thursday eight to six. She was a certified nursing assistant, graduating college in a year, and soon to be engaged to a boyfriend of three years. She was the only nurse who didn't hang up after telling Matthew that Aurora's condition hadn't changed.

Declan had less hope for Aurora than Matthew did. He figured it out long ago, Aurora was nothing without Niall. He couldn't pick out why and attributed her current state to a broken heart. 

He wanted to see Joey. Joseph, he corrected himself. His pills were dwindling day by day, but now that he and Matthew were in such close proximity, it was hard to keep them separated. And Declan knew deep down that he didn't hate Ronan enough to have Matthew and Joey - Joseph, dammit - meet.

He missed their hookups, though he'd been mortified when Ronan found out. But Joseph was a thrill and the meds he traded worked like a fucking charm. 

"Can we go get a pizza?" Matthew asked from his bed. He'd been laying quietly for the last hour while Declan read articles from a newspaper he picked up outside.

"Fine."

"Can we call Ronan?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he's busy."

Declan and Matthew didn't know that Ronan was standing in the hallway and was currently halfway through the door. "I'm not fucking busy. Let's get pizza."

The newspaper slapped on the table and Declan resisted the urge to start throwing punches. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing my brothers, what else would I be doing here?" He looked around at the shiny new appliances and beds and functional fans that could have convinced even Ronan that it was not the middle of summer. "Are all the apartments like this? Shit."

"Are you drunk?" Declan accused, with a poor attempt to keep his voice down. He knew Ronan had his own problems, he knew how much Niall meant to Ronan, and he knew how awful it would be to see what Ronan had seen on that morning.

Ronan flicked off his cap and Matthew gasped. "Where's your hair?" He twisted out of his blanket and reached to touch Ronan's short hair, nearly the same length as his facial hair, which he'd been too lazy and flustered to remove because Gansey was showering in the bathroom. He felt guilty that Niall's death hadn't lessened his attraction to Gansey, like he wasn't mourning properly. He felt guilty for forgetting. He felt guilty for not talking to Matthew. He felt so guilty that some nights he drank to forget his guilt, not to forget Niall.

"It's hot as balls where I'm staying."

"With Gansey?" Matthew asked. They'd gotten along well enough, and everyone liked Gansey and everyone liked Matthew.

"Yeah, with Gansey and another friend. Also, yes, Declan. I am drunk. And I want pizza."


	9. Chapter 9

A text message buzzed in while Ronan finally let Noah sit him down on the bed he finally got from some store's liquidation sale. He and Noah went shopping for sheets and pillows and his own set of towels since he always used Gansey's and hadn't thought to grab any on his last exit of the Barns. But today, only a warm day instead of blistering hot the day before fourth of July, Noah was excited.

Almost three weeks had passed and Noah was jumpier than usual, looking for any reason to touch his friends. He was overly affectionate, Ronan realized fondly. Since Niall's death, touch to Ronan, no matter how sensitive or intentional, was often overwhelming. And it wasn't as if grand gestures of touch triggered him either - it was sometimes as simple as brushing shoulders while passing through a door frame, fingers brushing while passing the remote, a fist bump. Certain sounds, like pipes banging with pressure, like Gansey clicking a pen, like a squealy brake pad also made Ronan cringe and retreat into himself for a bit, as short as a breath up to hours at a time. It felt like a dream, the trigger and the sense of falling out of his body, wandering until he came back feeling like he was floating. It was the same way when Noah tried to help those first few days after the initial shock of his father's murder wore off and Ronan held himself at a distance.

But now, Noah had asked rather meekly if he could just hold Ronan's hand. If Noah could blush through his Scandinavian genes, Ronan thought he would. It was weeks since he'd last held hands with anyone, and it was Gansey, washing blood away. 

Noah crossed his legs and tugged Ronan's hands forward, trying to hide how much he actually liked holding hands. He still smiled and couldn't help but take Ronan's serious energy and ground himself. He'd been feeling unusual lately and Ronan strangely helped.

Ronan's phone buzzed again and he ignored it, choosing to bury his bearded face into his elbow. Noah's eyebrows went up, and Ronan replied, "Kavinsky."

"Oh. Can I tell you something?" 

Noah didn't let go of Ronan's hands and almost laughed when he saw that he and Ronan were breathing in sync. Ronan nodded sagely and bit the inside of his cheek when Noah lifted their hands and kissed his knuckles.

"I want to kiss you again."

There was a heartbeat of contemplation before Ronan said, "Ok."

But when Noah leaned forward, placing his palms on the edges of Ronan's knees, Ronan winced and backed away. 

"Did I-" Noah started. He uncrossed his legs and drew up onto his knees.

"No, you didn't, I just-" Ronan took a shaky breath. How could he explain that he didn't want to feel like he was going to fall into nothing? His heart was already pounding, each breath coming in less steady than the one before. "I don’t want-"

Noah nodded. "I know. I'm sorry." He shifted over to the edge of the bed and paused when Ronan reached out.

"Don't leave. Please." Ronan hated the desperation in his voice but he also hated the idea of being alone. He'd thrown up so much that morning and struggled through a nasty hangover and Gansey wouldn't understand.

Noah sat down and took Ronan's hand in both of his. They both settled in, sitting up against the pillows, not speaking. 

Curiously, Gansey entered the room with Alice in Wonderland and his journal. He started reading until the last of the sun grew too dark to see.

-

"I thought we weren't going to fourth of July." Gansey said from his desk, watching Ronan put on deodorant and shave his beard.

"You don't have to. I won't be out late. Just dropping by to say hello." He tapped the razor on the edge of the sink and wiped his face with a towel.

"Really? Just to say hello? What are you on? You hate everyone that's gonna be there."

Ronan considered. "A little white pill that makes me happy for two hours. Put a timer to it." He grinned, sharp and wild and on a mission for destruction. "And I won't hate everyone there if you come along."

"I promised Noah a movie night because I thought you were staying here." Political Gansey was replaced by Dad Gansey and he still knew that he wouldn't win this against Ronan. "If you aren't back here in two hours, I'm dragging you out on your ass."

Ronan was out the door and making his way casually down the block to where he'd stored the BMW for quick access. He loved this car and he loved to drive it. No one knew he had it yet and the secret was still a thrill.

The fairgrounds were already crowded with teenagers and lit with stadium lights and trashcan fires and bumping with heavy bass and seductive beats. There was an organic smoke in the air, the kind Ronan had tried once and didn't care for. He had enough trouble staying grounded as it was.

Kavinsky was the in the middle of it all, standing with Skov and his blue hair (freshly re-dyed) on top of his white Mitsubishi. There were bottles in one hand and a joint in the other, tank tops and skinny jeans and sunglasses and life. So much, all around.

When Ronan approached, with a beer in hand from someone overly generous shoving beers into anyone he passed, and raised it up in greeting.

"Ronan fucking Lynch - didn't think you'd show!" Kavinsky jumped off the roof and took a hit of weed. He chased it with a drink and knocked their bottles together. "Where's Dick? Left him tied to the bed?"

"Didn't want to see you." He looked around, unable to help the adrenaline bringing a wicked smile. It felt good. "Are there gonna be races?"

Kavinsky chuckled. "Are there gonna be races. Fuck yes there are. What do you say we pair up? Tag team." His words ended on a booming note, half-sung.

Ronan nodded and followed Kavinsky into the car. "In this piece of shit though?"

"You really want to sacrifice daddy dearest's Beemer? So soon after his tragic passing?" Kavinsky knew it was a dick move to bring up Niall. 

But it didn't matter because Ronan shook his head. "No, I'm gonna teach you to fucking drive this thing. Switch places."

"Shit," Kavinsky said as he and Ronan crawled over each other. Kavinsky cupped his fingers over the front of Ronan's jeans just because he could when they were switching. Ronan's fist smacked into his cheek before he could squeeze his hand.

"Don't fucking touch me." Ronan all but growled, adjusting the seat back to accommodate his longer legs.

"You know, those pills I gave you work, but if it turns you into a bitch I'm gonna find someone else."

Ronan studied the passenger smoking steadily, dark eyes drifting out of focus. "Nothing is gonna happen tonight." He paused, lifting an eyebrow, daring to make a joke. "Gansey put me in a chastity belt."

Kavinsky smirked and Ronan revved the engine. "I knew it."

"Also you're fucking disgusting."

"I don't recall you complaining last year."

"There's a reason it only happened once. You're not my type."

From under the seat, Kavinsky produced a large bottle of gin. He tossed his beer out the window and took the last hit of his joint before throwing that out too. 

Before Ronan knew it, Kavinsky had leaned across the center console, putting his face directly in front of Ronan, balancing a hand on his shoulder. He exhaled a puff of smoke and Ronan closed his eyes and opened his mouth. It was hot and ashy and Ronan wished he wasn't getting aroused.

Kavinsky's pupils were completely dilated, beautiful maybe if he wasn't such a shitty person. His pursuit of Ronan would fall short and he knew this, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"How do I get you?" Kavinsky asked, not moving.

Ronan blinked and set his jaw. "Keep dreaming."

-

Exactly two hours after Ronan left, Gansey's phone rang. Noah answered it because he was closer and less tired. Gansey paused the movie and watched Noah hop over, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Ronan!"

Kavinsky spoke instead. Noah hadn't met Kavinsky but had heard enough about him to recognize the accent and the condescension over the haziness of being high. "Nope. Listen, Ronan is a little indisposed at the moment," he cackled and coughed, covering the sound of police sirens. "Got a little carried away, you're gonna have to come get him. By the Henrietta sign."

"Wait, what did he-" Kavinsky hung up before Noah finished, "do,"

Noah frowned and tugged his fingers through his hair, pulling it down. Gansey let him lay in his lap and idly played with his hair, fluffing it into uneven tufts during the movie. "I think Ronan got arrested."

Ten minutes later, Gansey and Noah got out of the Pig to where Kavinsky was sitting on the hood of his car smoking a cigarette. He had a pile of ash and a few smothered filters to one side and was watching the scene curiously. Hiding on one side was a bottle of whisky, foaming like it had been shaken

Ronan had in handcuffs, standing against the wall behind the Henrietta sign. An officer had a flashlight trained on his eyes, flicking back and forth while Ronan cussed him out. His knuckles were scabbed and breaking open, dripping with dark blood.

"Hello, Officer." Gansey offered his hand, putting on his winning smile and best attitude he could muster in the situation. It was strained and Ronan knew it but to everyone else, it was that of a pleasant young man interested in policies of the law.

"Your friends here have been racing again." The Officer didn't seem impressed by Gansey. "I've seen this car out every night this week."

At this, Gansey shot a look to Ronan. It went ignored.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You're sure it's this car?"

"It's hard to mistake with that decal on it."

Gansey nodded, noting the unique blade of a knife on one side of the Mitsubishi that he'd never seen before. "If both of them were racing, why is only one in cuffs?"

While Gansey talked his way into the situation to talk Ronan out, Noah had slipped over to Ronan's side. He put his arm in Ronan's in a silent gesture of peace.

In that moment, Ronan knew what Kavinsky had done. He'd either not given the correct pills or done nothing at all, letting Ronan's blood boil in a fight or flight response, driving him to panic.

Noah, whose presence was always calming put Ronan's teeth on edge. He grimaced and tried to reel in his hectic thoughts, tried to prevent his reaction. He couldn't stop it and shuddered and he was hyper aware of Kavinsky watching him with sudden interest. Ronan jerked away from Noah and dropped into a squat, counting his breaths. K bared his teeth and slapped his hands down on his knees, slipping off the hood and approaching Gansey and the officer.

"Only because I'm feeling sympathetic tonight." The officer was saying, grabbing his keys and moving towards Ronan. "You boys stay off these streets. Next time I'm bringing you both in."

Kavinsky clapped once and put his elbow on Gansey's shoulder. "Glad you took care of that, Dick. Seriously. I owe you."

Gansey shrugged out of his arm. "I'll take the favor now. Stop doing this to Ronan."

"What exactly do you think I'm doing to him? Is that jealousy I hear?" Kavinsky touched his heart like he'd been hurt. His mouth hung open in disbelief, quickly turning into a smirk when Gansey clenched his jaw. "Listen. I know this might be hard to hear, but Ronan came to me."

"What did you give him?"

"Sex, drugs, rock and roll," Kavinsky drawled, reaching for a cigarette in his pocket, waving daintily to the officer who was heading back to his patrol car. Ronan hadn't yet moved, having a low conversation with Noah and rubbing at his wrists. "He only accepted the drugs though. You must put out a lot, because he didn't want to fuck. And I asked."

"What kind of drugs?"

Kavinsky laughed. "Only pills. Not the hard stuff. Though if you want, I can hook you up. Which reminds me." He reached into his pocket and placed a blue pill in Gansey's palm.

Gansey wrinkled his nose distastefully and dropped it on the ground, crushing it under a casual step. "No thanks."

That moment, there was a faraway whistling noise, followed by a spectacular boom and a shower of light in the sky. More and more fireworks shot up in the air, lighting their faces in reflections of gold and red and purple. 

Kavinsky inhaled, tipping his face to the sky. "That's my cue. Happy fourth."

-

Hours later, Kavinsky pushed in the front door of his house, unlocked as usual. It was a mansion in the middle of a field not unlike Ronan's dwelling but unkempt and dirty all around. The grass hadn't been mowed and was growing to seed, tall enough that even standing near it bothered K's allergies. The last house party was still evident, spills drying into sticky messes, garbage all over the floor.

Kavinsky kicked it out of his way and went to the kitchen. Pots and pans weeks old and unclean were in the sink and on the stove. He remembered why he'd been staying with Jiang now, aside from the sex. He hated being home.

"Joey?" His mother called feebly from the top of the stairs. 

"I'm coming, calm your tits." He groaned, picking up some used paper plates and dropping them on top of the overflowing trashcan. Last time, he gave Swan energy shots and promised him a blowjob if he cleaned the house. Swan wasn't here now, but this was worth more like a blowjob with a finger up the ass - no one had touched this mess since the party had happened.

Kavinsky hopped up the stairs, two at a time, taking his mom by the elbow. Her arms were shaking, eyes baggy and blue, face stretched with either pain or age. He led her to her bedroom and put her in the recliner that faced the window.

"Is it July?"

"It's the fourth." Kavinsky drew a syringe from the side of the table and filled it with clear liquid from a small bottle in the drawer. She'd tried to jimmy it open with a shoelace she'd pulled from one of his sneakers, unaware that the key was taped underneath the ridge just out of sight.

He stuck the needle in her arm next to the other dots of previous injections and pressed the plunger. She immediately sighed and adjusted in the seat, settling into a satisfied slump, watching the occasional firework with muted delight.

Kavinsky's room was bare, with the exception of a bed and a half-empty dresser. Stacked on top with plastic containers of colorful pills and crushed powders with hallucinatory side effects. Kavinsky undressed to his boxers and swallowed a green pill dry, laying on his stomach and closing his eyes.

He fell into a dream almost instantly, the same racetrack as usual. The engine of his car purred low under his feet and he waited for only a minute before Ronan walked up and got in the passenger seat, holding a pair of handcuffs. The same pair he'd been wearing in the real world when the officer pulled him over and Kavinsky couldn't stop laughing, slapping his knees and nearly to tears.

Ronan passed the handcuffs over and said, "You kinky bastard."

Kavinsky grabbed his shoulder and tugged. 

He woke up and the Ronan from his dream gasped, confused at his new surroundings. Kavinsky crawled up to his knees and held onto Ronan's shirt to keep him from running. He could see the panic in Ronan's blue eyes. His hair was too long, not to mention the wrong hairline, jaw too wide, and a muscular frame that wasn't as defined as the real Ronan.

Dream Ronan swung a punch which Kavinsky dodged. He always punched before he tried to run. While Ronan processed, Kavinsky drew a gun from under his pillow and aimed it at the hollow of Ronan's neck. Ronan swallowed hard, looking down at the gun and then back up at Kavinsky, whispering a soft, "okay."

"That's it, babe." Kavinsky said, throwing a leg up and straddling Ronan's waist. He dropped his weight, pleased to feel a hardness below him. He exhaled, grinding his hips forward, putting his free hand into Ronan's hair.

Ronan closed his eyes, his face flushing a fascinating shade of red as Kavinsky worked him over, eventually lifting off enough to pull off his pants far enough to get what he wanted.

Kavinsky did what he needed and finished with a groan, latching his mouth onto Ronan's neck. He scraped a hickey into the skin and let Ronan finish with a surprised gasp and a bruising grip at his waist. When they caught their breaths, Kavinsky pulled Ronan up and landed a sinful kiss onto Ronan's lips.

"Shit." He said reverently, reaching for the gun, which he'd set down to go about his business.

A single shot rang out and Ronan slumped backwards, a dark hole between his eyebrows.

Kavinsky climbed off him and shoved the body onto the floor. There should have been more blood, he thought. He wiped his hand on the bedsheets and huffed, redressing.

He dragged the lifeless Ronan to his door and checked on his mother before taking care of the body. Her hand was shaking.

"Joey?"

"What?" He felt her pulse just to be safe.

She lifted her hand, pointing two fingers in the air. "Bang." She whispered, echoing the gunshot she heard.

Kavinsky allowed himself a tiny smile. He pointed two fingers next to hers. "That's right." He said quietly. His thumb bent, pulling the imaginary trigger. "Bang."

-


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as the Pig got back to Monmouth, Ronan remembered the keys in his pocket for the BMW, which he'd left a few blocks away from the party. Noah skipped out of the Pig and Gansey waited before moving the seat back to let Ronan out. He could have started a fire with the concealed fury in his voice, the tenseness of his hands.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. That's the point." Ronan said defensively. He'd been a little intoxicated but didn't feel it anymore - it was amazing the cop didn't test either of them. Kavinsky promised him a new set of pills and hadn't delivered. Ronan's palms were tingling and he felt the anxiety burning through him.

Gansey tipped his head back against the headrest with a low sigh. "I don't want to see you take yourself down like this."

"Then close your fucking eyes. This is how I'm dealing with it."

"It's not healthy."

"I don't give a fuck if it's healthy or not. This is how I'm doing it."

Gansey rubbed his temple and sighed again. "Don't go back there. Please."

Ronan looked out the window, shaking his head. As much as he loved Gansey, he couldn't. He apologized over a breath and climbed into the front seat and out.

No one tried to stop him as he walked down the block away from Monmouth. The night air was breezy and cold and still glowing with distant fireworks. Ronan hadn't thought to bring a jacket but he didn't need one with the way he was boiling on the inside out, his previous panic turning his blood hot. That had never happened before. He was usually so cold, unable to hold heat like Noah, but now he had too much. Like Niall's death had sealed his pores too tightly.

Monmouth was out of sight and the few houses he'd passed were all dark, with the occasional flicker of a TV left on through closed curtains. Ronan missed the feeling of home. Missed a place where he could be comfortable enough to leave on a TV, to have a TV, despite having never gotten attached to any particular shows growing up. He and his brothers always played outside, scraping knees, calling names, getting dirty. The Barns was good for that - but Ronan couldn't go back.

A pair of blue headlights swung around the corner and caught Ronan in their sights. Ronan stopped walking and approached the car.

The driver's window rolled down and Skov's head leaned out. "You need a ride?" He jostled someone inside the car and raised his eyebrows at Ronan, waiting.

"Where are you going?" Ronan came closer and saw Swan with his greasy hair in the front seat, drumming his fingers on the panel, his bare feet up on the dash. They were the only two inside.

"After party. Jiang's place." Skov said, slapping Swan hard on the thigh when he tried to slip his hand behind Skov's neck. "You want a ride or not, fuckwad?"

Ronan got in the back, pushing some empty bottles off the seat. Before Ronan even thought about seatbelts, which wasn't a common thought as usually he didn't care enough for his own safety, Swan had turned around and handed him a white pill and a bottle of beer. The pill was a familiar sight, the same kind Kavinsky had supplied him since Niall's death. The kind that took the edge of life off and made Ronan semi-pleasant, able to function without guilt or trauma. 

He swallowed it quickly, desperate to forget the look on Gansey's face, the hurt and disappointment. He briefly considered that he shouldn't be in this car with Kavinsky's friends going to a party where Kavinsky would likely be. 

Gansey wouldn't have done this. Noah wouldn't have done this. Adam wouldn't be here if he'd been paid. 

Ronan hadn't thought much about Adam recently. He'd been working a lot to put himself through Aglionby and couldn't risk losing it. Ronan wanted that kind of ambition, to care enough about something that nothing else mattered. 

Skov circled the block and parallel parked surprisingly well in a space Ronan didn't think would be wide enough. Whatever party they'd talked up had apparently ended or everyone attending had passed out.

Inside, there were bodies slowly dancing to heavy music, couples making out on available surfaces, people drinking alone, smoking alone, smoking together. Ronan grabbed the first bottle he could find and went to the back porch where few people were given the chilly wind. It was heaven for Ronan. He sat against the house, feeling the beat of the music in his neck, drinking until he couldn't think, until he couldn't remember.

He dreamed about Adam's hands, feeding him small white pills.

-

Ronan didn't return to Monmouth for four days, not checking his phone, not spending enough time sober to bother. He'd run into Kavinsky only twice and both times had been perplexing in that he saw himself on Kavinsky's arm like an out of body experience, but he had hair.

He had hair and one of Kavinsky's hands was fisted tightly in it and the other had was down his pants, but Ronan couldn't feel any of it. He felt a tightening in his stomach but that was from watching, not because he could feel Kavinsky's fingers slide over him. It was happening right in front of him and Ronan couldn't figure it out. He was too drunk for this. 

The second time, Kavinsky was dragging him across the floor of the basement while Swan followed with a shovel. Ronan watched, unable to move because of a pill he'd taken, a yellow capsule that made Ronan's arms go numb. He watched his head hit the door as Kavinsky hauled him up over his shoulder and carried him outside.

Nothing made sense. Maybe it was Declan he'd seen. Maybe it was him. Ronan spent the last eight hours locked in Jiang's bathroom, sobering up into an incredible hangover.

When he convinced Skov to get out from under Swan's very naked ass and get dressed, his head was pounding. Skov drove him to the lot where he'd left the BMW on the fourth and Ronan took his time getting back to Monmouth.

Noah was spooned around Gansey on the bed in the middle of the floor, his mouth open against Gansey's neck, Gansey sleeping for the first time in days. Noah lifted his head but didn't say anything.

Ronan went straight to his room, dropped his clothes that he hadn't changed in four days and twisted himself into a blanket. He stared at his ceiling and waited for the inevitable guilt to set in. He couldn't fall asleep.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter - sorry. update on saturday


	11. Chapter 11

Noah missed Ronan's hair but the soft fuzziness of his buzzed hair was equally nice to pet. His fingers danced over Ronan's scalp while Ronan played a game on his phone. Noah was on his stomach the wrong way on Ronan's bed, his ankles kicked up and crossed in the air, swinging with his thoughts. He leaned forward enough to keep his left hand on Ronan's hair and to press his own face into Ronan's cheek.

The last two weeks, Ronan hadn't seen Kavinsky or tried to sneak out, since his strange experience watching himself do things he was convinced he'd never do. He didn't tell anyone and slapped something hard enough to make him forget whenever he thought about it. As a result, he grew to be something like he'd been before, but still hard on the edges, sleep-deprived, and even less willing to talk about his feelings. Noah was fine with it though because he could kiss Ronan's cheek when he wanted to and Ronan wouldn't flinch. He could kiss Ronan's neck, only lightly, he didn't want to intimidate, and Ronan wouldn't tense. He could kiss Ronan's mouth… He could do it he just hadn't yet, not since the first time. 

But now the urge was too great. Noah whined to himself and Ronan put down his phone when Noah sucked a cold open-mouth kiss at the edge of his jaw. 

Tipping his head back onto the mattress, he said, "You want to make out or something?"

"Is it that obvious?" Noah mumbled, unable to withhold his anticipation.

Ronan twisted around enough to get his arm over Noah's back. He gave Noah a short kiss and got to his feet, moving to the door.

Noah's face fell until he heard the new lock Ronan put in last week click. Ronan came back and tugged off his tank. He crawled back onto his bed, holding himself up so he didn't crush Noah, but Noah was buzzing with excitement that he might not have cared.

Surprisingly, Ronan leaned down first, fitting his mouth to Noah's, opening his lips, breathing already uneven. Noah's hands started on his hips and explored freely until they were both flushed. Ronan pulled away to try a new kiss at the base of Noah's neck, just inside the collar of his Aglionby sweater. The kind that left Noah whining and lifting his hips into Ronan.

"Wait," Noah said reluctantly. Ronan immediately sat back and held his hands up proving he'd stopped himself. "What about Gansey?"

"What about Gansey?" Ronan echoed as an answer. He wiped his palms on his knees.

"Nothing. I guess I didn't think," Noah started, still nervous and overjoyed. "I didn't think until now that you might be thinking that… that I'm him or something."

Ronan smirked, a mixture of pride and disbelief. "It's only you. Don't worry."

"What if you're lying?"

"I promise," Ronan said, hovering over Noah. "From today on, I'm not gonna lie to you."

Noah crossed his ankles around Ronan's waist, pulling Ronan's ear to his mouth. He exhaled a hot breath, "Then what do you want, right now?"

Ronan bit into Noah's neck, flattening his tongue over the fleeting pulse. "I want to blow your fucking mind."

-

"Who's getting a tattoo with me?" Ronan asked, holding a scrap of paper in his hand. He'd been doodling a wicked design for days, only in the mornings after he woke up and convinced himself he was awake and alive. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

He tried not to think about how long Noah must have been sitting in Gansey's lap, their legs twined, Gansey's sharp chin resting on Noah's hair. 

Noah wrinkled his nose, shaking the cereal box. "I don't like needles."

"Gansey?"

Gansey lifted both his eyebrows and blinked. He carefully set down the house he'd just assembled to the side. He shifted and Noah sat up, crawling over to the side of the bed. "How long will it take?"

"Couple hours," 

"I've got a meeting with a professor in an hour at Aglionby. We should have dinner together." 

Ronan huffed and threw himself into Gansey's chair, careful to avoid kicking the city hall which Gansey had been so proud of he woke Ronan up from the first pleasant dream he'd had in a while to show him. And by pleasant, Ronan meant no blood. There were still the birds with black eyes that followed him in any dream he had and sometimes came out with him. He'd broken his window latch in a desperate effort to get it open and free the birds, but of course now his window wouldn't close.

"Fuck Aglionby." He said after a moment.

Gansey looked up at Ronan's tone. It wasn’t anger, but something more hate-filled. "Pardon?"

"I said," Ronan started in that same contemptuous tone, "Fuck Aglionby."

"What makes you say that?" Gansey, ever the peacekeeper. He carefully screw the lid of the glue bottle back on. Ronan before had never expressed any interest or disinterest in school, though it was obvious from the many nights they spent in Ronan's room working on homework that it wasn't his first priority.

Ronan shook his head. "I'm not going back to school. What's the fucking point? Graduate and then what? Go to college? Study chemistry? Or how about fucking marketing?"

Gansey didn't have an immediate response. He hadn't slept at all the past four nights according to Noah, evidenced by the strain in his eyes, his perpetual glasses instead of contacts, and his inability to argue for Aglionby. "You would throw away all that effort?"

"It's only two years of school, Gansey. I don’t need a diploma. You think Glendower cares whether or not you have a piece of paper that says you can add and know what day the civil war ended?" Ronan shouldn't have brought Glendower into it, he knew.

They hadn't done anything Glendower related in more than a month, since Niall's death. Motivating Ronan was hard enough, and Gansey wasn't sure he could convince Ronan into finishing high school if he couldn't convince Ronan to go for a hike on weekends.

But Gansey had a card he refused to play because he knew it was unfair. He knew Ronan's feelings for him. He knew when they lived at the Barns, from Ronan's easy blushes when they sat close together, from the laundry Ronan did without being asked, from the willingness to do anything without hesitation if the request came from Gansey. He'd heard the soft, rhythmic gasps from Ronan's side of the room more than once late at night when they both should have been sleeping, and the quiet pants, muffled into a pillow or a bitten hand, of Gansey's name.

"Ronan," Gansey started, guilt already picking at his heart. "Just two more years. Please."

Ronan's expression didn't change.

"For me." Gansey said, daring to look at Ronan. "Do it for me."

Ronan's jaw flexed and he flicked his eyes to Noah, so quick Gansey might have missed it had he been any less intent. Without responding, Ronan grabbed his paper, presumably with his tattoo design and left, slamming the door behind him.

The BMW wasn't a secret anymore. He'd been parking in the lot since fourth of July after his near arrest. Ronan shut himself in and covered his face, exclaiming a forceful "fuck" and slapped a fist on the dashboard. He'd been getting over Gansey and was developing confusing feelings for Noah at the same time until then. He started the engine and drove to the seediest tattoo parlor he could find, the only one in town.

For the most part, it was seedy and the kind that respectable people avoided. Half the windows were boarded and neon light drifted in through the cracks. Despite it looking shady, inside was very clean. Only one artist was there, sketching in a book with a fine-tipped marker. She had large hoops in her ears, fake red hair, and a piercing through her eyebrow.

Ronan swiftly convinced her to cancel her appointments for the rest of the day by flashing a charming smile full of perfect teeth and a credit card. She spent hours transferring his drawing onto his back, showing him her progress as she went. His sketched ideas took a real and better form when she drew and he relaxed, trusting her talent.

She doubted him when he said he wanted all of it done that day. She warned him against it, citing the pain he would feel, but he didn't care. Physical pain didn't deter him nearly as much since Niall died, not that it had been a priority to avoid before. He'd had his share of broken bones and bruises and fist fights.

By the end of the day, Ronan was convinced of four things. He wasn't over Gansey. He liked Noah. He would go back to Aglionby (for Gansey). Declan would hate the tattoo. 

Declan was a purist, believing authenticity and respectability were only helped by clear skin and no piercings and clean haircuts. Ronan disagreed, biting his lip through the pain to spite his brother.

His back did hurt though, after he'd generously tipped the artist and paid for her work. In the BMW, he drove sitting on the edge of his seat in the most law-abiding way he'd ever driven in his life because he was sore.

Gansey was standing on a skateboard in the parking lot, holding onto Noah's arm for balance. They both looked up and waved when Ronan parked next to the Pig. He left the stereo on Gansey's favorite radio station, a news station and turned up the volume loud enough so they could hear it.

Noah, for the first time in a long time, was not in his Aglionby uniform. There was an incident with the glue Gansey was using and it was not machine washable. Instead, Noah was in a loose pink t-shirt, revealing a dark mark the shape of Ronan's lips on his collar and shorts, revealing his pasty legs and bony ankles. There was a black hat backwards on his head with a logo for a minor league sports team Ronan didn't know about. Gansey was dressed similarly without the hat and his shirt was a polo and was a bright grassy green. Gansey's legs were wobbling, but Noah held him steady.

"Can we please change the radio?" Noah groaned and struggled out of Gansey's grip. "Ronan, there's another board in my room, go get it."

Ronan disappeared and returned with a board with clear wheels and a design on the bottom for some forgotten band in the early 2000s. Noah probably had all their albums and a signed poster. 

Like Gansey, Ronan wasn't very good at skateboarding, but he could at least stand on it without needing assistance. If the surface was flat, Ronan could even move around, taking wide turns. While Noah encouraged Gansey to let go of his arm, Ronan explored the parking lot on wheels, standing stiffly trying not to aggravate his new tattoo.

He was supposed to keep it covered for the rest of the day and wash it with a solution daily for the next week at least. There were some instructions the girl gave him, along with her phone number. 

"Gansey, you're hopeless if you don't try it on your own."

"I'm going to fall, Noah." Gansey said, too blunt, indicating his discomfort.

Ronan hit a dip in the parking lot and went down, catching himself on his hands and knees. Noah looked over, and when Gansey turned his head, he lost his balance and fell into Noah, sending the skateboard flying in the opposite direction.

From the other side of the lot, Ronan was laughing, clutching his stomach and getting to his feet again. His palms were scraped open, surface wounds, and his knees were likely bruised.

"Noah, I think I shattered my kneecap." Gansey was breathing harshly, sitting back and looking at the mess of pebbles and blood on one of his knees. He hadn't fallen so embarrassingly in years. "I was led to believe skateboarding required specific safety precautions, including but not limited to kneepads and helmets."

Noah, whose knees were scarred from his many years of experience, had little sympathy. "You only need that stuff if you're really bad. Or if you're entering competitions. They're very stingy about protection." He sniffed distastefully. He'd never owned a proper helmet and refused to wear kneepads and elbow pads, claiming they restricted his movement.

"I sense that you just insulted both of us." Gansey pouted.

"Want me to kiss it better?" Noah cackled and offered his hand to help Gansey up. "Because I will." He added seriously.

Even when Gansey had given up for the night, going in to work on his model of Henrietta, the other two stayed out and changed the radio to something they liked better than personal interviews. Ronan kept working on sharper turns, falling a few more times, always catching himself on his hands. Noah was much more talented than Ronan expected, able to do flips and kicks and jumps that looked complicated and very easy at the same time. 

They laughed easily, circling the lot late into the night, pausing their efforts now and then to meet for a kiss, urgent and sweet, heated and chaste all at once. Ronan pressed Noah down over the trunk of the BMW when their boards sat forgotten, sucking another mark into his neck. Noah was making a soft noise, his left leg shaking in pleasure, when Ronan drew away suddenly. He grabbed Noah's wrists, where his nails scratched into the top edges of the tattoo and pinned them down by his sides. Noah gasped an apology, pouting when Ronan ended their session with a last kiss.

They separated for the evening, Noah claiming he had to do something about the situation in his pants and didn't want Ronan's help. Ronan flopped onto his bed, stomach down and tried to sleep, finding that he couldn't. Every time he was about to drift off, a sound of Monmouth settling startled him wide awake, adrenaline coursing through his instantly tense body. This kind of anticipatory fear was new. The tapping at the window could have been birds, out to get him, Noah, being a shit, or Niall's murderer, coming for Ronan. The steps out in the main floor could have been any of those options, or Gansey, working through his own insomnia. 

Ronan put his headphones on, turning up the volume as loud as he could handle and lay with his face buried in his pillow, awake and vulnerable.

The next day, Gansey called Adam about his availability for the afternoon and early evening. While Gansey left to go pick up Adam, Noah jumped on Ronan's bed and begged him to skate outside since the heat was tolerable and "his Irish ancestors would want him to enjoy the partly cloudy day."

Ronan quickly tossed the bags of screws and nails and flower petals he'd been dreaming about before Noah could ask where they'd come from and why. His hand got halfway down Noah's shorts before Gansey honked the horn, and Noah went running with his shorts unzipped, probably still on the verge of popping a boner, jumping on Gansey's back and waving at Adam. Ronan watched, coming down the stairs slowly, with a tick in his jaw.

Like yesterday, Gansey was determined to learn with Noah's help. Ronan got the other board and did laps around the lot while Noah pushed Gansey and let Gansey practice balancing on his own while moving. Adam, after watching carefully, waved Ronan over. 

With much more skill than yesterday, Ronan skated over. "You want a turn?"

It had been so long since they'd seen each other, that Ronan forgot the finer details of Adam's elegant face, his firm cheekbones and light freckles everywhere, even on his eyelids and on his lips. Ronan didn't know people could have freckles on their lips, and on Adam Parrish, it was not an unattractive feature.

He hadn't gotten tan over the summer but his hair was a lighter brown than Ronan remembered. His hands were more chapped, his eyelashes longer, smile a little harder to come by. He'd been working a lot, Ronan knew. There weren't any strange wounds this time. Ronan made sure to check casually from a distance when Adam wasn't looking.

"I'm not very good." Adam admitted, stepping on the board with more confidence than Gansey ever had so far.

Ronan had the strangest urge to reassure Adam, or make some promise that he'd catch Adam if he fell, but he felt stupid for even thinking that. Adam didn't need to be coddled. Instead, he didn't say anything in response, watching as Adam moved in a line across the lot with surprising grace.

Gansey was moving slowly while Noah observed with his hands on his hips. "Adam, you're better than Gansey is!" Noah called while Gansey looked like he was about to swear.

A rare look of pride crossed over Adam's features for a second and Ronan felt his heart swell. But shortly after that moment, Adam slipped off the board and dropped to the ground, gracefully, if such a thing could be done. When Gansey fell, it was limbs everywhere; Ronan, straight down like a stone. And Noah didn't fall. Adam going down was like watching a leaf drift to the ground, knowing gravity was inevitable but it didn't look painful.

He got up quickly and Gansey let out his breath.

"I have an idea." Noah said. "There's a big hill just a few blocks away."

Gansey immediately shook his head. "No. I can barely stand on a flat surface, what makes you think I'd stay upright on an incline?"

"The fact that you'd be sitting." Noah grinned. His sisters, too afraid to actually learn to skateboard would find the biggest hill they could and race down while sitting or lying on their stomachs, cheering joyfully. He missed his sisters and hadn't seen them in longer than should be acceptable.

Ronan and Adam immediately agreed and Gansey obliged with a small smile.

Gansey was afraid to go first, somehow afraid that he'd be sitting wrong. So Noah and Ronan did, each finding a comfortable spot and gripping the side of the board, legs splayed to the side, testing the motions by scooting back and forth a few feet. They decided a strip of tar at the top of the hill was a good starting line and the stop sign at the bottom would be the finish line. 

The hill wasn't steep and it was a good length down, long enough to gather speed and exhilaration. The road itself wasn't busy at all due to a festival in a neighboring farm town that nearly everyone attended, except the four of them. Noah flipped his hat backwards and kicked Ronan's ankle. 

"Winner gets a blowie?" He joked.

"Keep it in your pants," Ronan laughed and kicked Noah right back.

Gansey counted down and they both kicked their feet up, sailing down the hill, throwing arms at each other and hooting and laughing all the way down. Halfway down, Noah's hat flew off and he screamed for it.

Invariably against Noah's expertise and Ronan's competitive edge, they appeared to cross through the designated intersection at the same time.

Noah jumped off his board and picked it up before it had stopped rolling and called up to the boys, "I smoked him!"

Ronan drifted to a more leisurely pace and tackled Noah, ruffling his hair, yelling up, "Fuck him, he's lying!"

They ran up the hill, out of breath by the top, Noah more so than Ronan. Noah didn't have hundreds of hours of tennis drills under his belt like Ronan. They handed their boards to Adam and Gansey who had a lot less banter between them and more nerves all around.

Noah counted down and then pushed Adam into the lead before Gansey had even picked his feet up. Gansey shouted, "Hey, that's cheating!" and used his legs to propel himself forward before Ronan gave Gansey a hard shove down the hill.

"Make me proud, Gansey!" Ronan yelled.

Adam won by a long shot and kept his celebration to only a smile and he and Gansey walked up the hill together.

"You killed him," Noah said, bumping knuckles with Adam. Adam flinched at either the words or the fist bump and Gansey's mouth tightened. Ronan visibly tensed, his whole face darkening.

It was the word kill that ruined the mood. Noah didn't mean to offend anyone or knock the mood out of balance and he immediately turned to Ronan ready to apologize.

Ronan wasn't going to hear it and grabbed the board from under Gansey's arm. He pointed to Adam. "You and me, let's go."

They lined up and Gansey counted down while Noah pulled at his hair, chanting to himself and Gansey that he didn't mean it and he wasn't thinking and why did he say that.  
Adam won again because Ronan swerved too much. When he finally slowed down enough, he wiped his eyes on his shirt and took Adam's hand to get up, holding on for a second too long.

"I was gonna tell you earlier," Adam said, not meeting his eyes, but instead looking at a parked car with a flat tire and a license plate that was half falling off. "I'm sorry about your dad."

"It's not your fault." Ronan flattened a hand over his hair, stretching his back.

"Ok." Adam said. 

They walked up the hill in agreeable silence, Adam stopping along the way to pick up Noah's hat and hand it over to Ronan.

When they reunited with the boys, trading boards, Ronan put the hat back on Noah's head, clapping his shoulder in a show of good faith. Noah apologized anyway, and Ronan shoved him over to where Gansey stood waiting.

"You better win," Ronan said to Noah with a dangerous smile as Gansey looked offended. "Or I'm throwing you out the window."

-


	12. Chapter 12

Declan called the next week, raging loud enough through Ronan's phone that Gansey could hear it from the bathroom. It involved many curses that would have made Niall proud but made Ronan tip the phone away from his ear and wait until Declan was done.

"Are you finished?" He asked, picking at the mud on his laces.

"Nine hundred fucking dollars for a tattoo? Have you fucking lost it?"

Ronan sighed. "No. Why the fuck do you care?"

"Because, dipshit, if you keep spending this money like it's nothing it's gonna be gone and I'm not going to pick you off the fucking streets."

The words didn't hurt, Ronan just didn't want to argue. He wanted to keep daydreaming about Adam's fingernails and his ability to keep his composure and his work ethics. "It's my money, Dec, and I'm going to do what I want with it, so fuck off." He hung up before Declan could respond.

Noah was back in his uniform, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows and sticking a bandage on a wound on his arm.

He huffed dramatically, dropping his face between Ronan's knees, his hands resting on the outside of Ronan's thighs. "I want to go outside." He mumbled into Ronan's comforter.

"It's raining."

"I could blow you?" He suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, slipping his hands up to Ronan's waist. While Ronan shifted, pleased at the turn of events, Noah stopped and flipped into a less compromising position, despite the sudden sexual atmosphere. "Or we could go puddle jumping?"

"Or," Gansey said, interrupting, daring to step into Ronan's room without being invited first. He paused at Noah's look, inviting and sexy and out of context. "We could go to the car shop and see Adam. The Pig is making a noise."

Ronan coughed a laugh. "The Pig is always making noise. It's a fucking shitbox."

"I happen to like it. And we haven't seen Adam in a week."

They agreed to go after lunch. Before Ronan started the shower, he doused his back in the last of the cleaning solution for his tattoo and stood under the water, counting back days, counting the pills he'd taken, counting the number of times he'd caught Noah making eyes at Gansey. Ronan couldn't blame him, Gansey was alluring in a different way. And somehow, whatever happened between Noah and Ronan didn't feel pressured to be anything more. They were just good friends who happened to kiss sometimes and joked about blowjobs and occasionally jerked each other off, but it wasn't weird. They weren't boyfriends. 

It shouldn't have bothered Ronan as much as it did. Noah was touchy by his nature, he'd be surprised if he hadn't kissed Gansey platonically, though Gansey seemed decidedly hetero, if he were to express romantic or sexual interest in anything other than Henrietta or Glendower. 

He didn't have these feelings when he took his medications or when he was drunk. He hadn't wanted to drink in a while, and the idea of passing out without thoughts or dreams sounding more and more appealing the more he imagined Noah dropping to his knees in front of Gansey. Drying off with a towel, Ronan checked under the sink for his stash of pills, the last few from Kavinsky. He took them with a handful of water from the faucet. In an hour, he'd be fine.

In an hour, he was not fine. Noah and Gansey left to pick up sodas, leaving Adam and Ronan. Adam wasn't too busy, pausing now and then to explain what he was doing when he caught Ronan paying closer attention to his actions. There were grease smudges on his hands and he wiped at them with an already dirty cloth, spreading it around rather than cleaning it off. Ronan thought back to the day Niall died, when Gansey had sat in front of him and washed his hands. It was a lifetime ago.

"You just got real quiet." Adam noted, his accent drawing the syllables long and sweet.

Ronan picked up a socket wrench from the table, choosing not to reply.

Adam tried again. "How long have you and Noah been together?"

"We're not. Just friends."

"Oh." It was a weighted word, brandished with a subtle "you're wrong".

Ronan huffed. "He's like that with everyone. Just wait."

Adam didn't smile at that, but his expression morphed into something more like confusion. He instead let Ronan turn the small static-filled radio up a lot, humming to himself while looking at the next car's engine. 

When Gansey and Noah came back with armfuls of sodas and snacks and a fit of raucous laughter, Ronan bit the inside of his cheek. He took the wrench in his hand and dragged it over the veins in his arms, pressing hard enough to leave red marks. Noah and Gansey spread their collection on a workbench and neither Adam nor Ronan reached for any of it.

Soon enough, after Ronan had worried a light bruise into his wrist, Adam walked over and snatched the wrench from his hand without a word. He didn't need it, apparently, and just slipped it into his back pocket. Ronan now had nothing to do with his hands and tried to divert his growing anger at Noah to beating a rhythm in time with the song on the radio.

Ronan watched as Adam methodically inspected the engine, first only looking, then leaning over it with his angular shoulders and concentrated eyebrows, gears turning in his mind. He reached a hand into the depths, measuring dipsticks and fluids and sat himself on a long board on wheels, not unlike a skateboard, and slid under the car.

"I want to go to the woods again this weekend." Gansey said. His arm was resting on Noah's shoulder, his hand talking along with him next to Noah's cheek.

"I can't." Adam responded first, voice regrettable and defeated. "Work."

Gansey tried not to sound hurt because he knew - they all knew - how much Aglionby cost and that Adam was not in their same socioeconomic class. He was far from it, and they all knew it. "Maybe next time. Ronan?"

Ronan stopped slapping his hands and glared in the space between Noah and Gansey, hips nearly touching. "No."

"Why not?" Noah asked, as if sensing why Ronan was upset. He moved a fraction away from Gansey and lifted a finger to cover the mark on his neck that Ronan had given him only days before, coincidentally not long after he'd seen Noah exit the bathroom with half a gallon of milk, laughing, while Gansey, in the shower, swore in off-brand explicit terms.

"No is a complete sentence." Ronan snarled, his chest growing tight. 

Noah recoiled with a frown for only a minute until he interrupted Gansey's speech about the next steps for Glendower. "Can we go outside, Ronan?"

Ronan rolled his eyes, following Noah through the open door and around the side of the building. There was another mechanic sitting on an overturned bucket, smoking. Noah reached for Ronan's arm and grabbed air as Ronan jerked out of the way.

"What is wrong with you?" He accused, growing impatient. He pointed a finger when Ronan opened his mouth. "And don’t say nothing, you promised not to lie to me."

Ronan hadn't been intending to lie. Honesty, fierce or forgiving, was easier to handle. "You and Gansey."

"What about us?"

Ronan didn't want to say it. He didn't want to tell Noah he didn't like sharing, he didn't like being put second, he didn't like them touching or talking or being in the same room. He knew it was unfair. But he'd felt it. He felt a chasm blistering between him and Noah and him and Gansey like foods that shouldn't touch. He hated when he and Noah fooled around and immediately after cleaning up, Noah would sit on Gansey's bed like he hadn't just been reduced to a trembling mess moments before. He hated when Gansey held on to Noah for life while standing on that skateboard, how Gansey was so ridiculously friendly to everyone, how he only had two, no, three, friends in his life. He hated that he hadn't seen Matthew in weeks, that he couldn't go home, that his father was dead.

He wished Kavinsky's pills had been stronger - to dampen these emotions because feeling hurt and ached so much. Everywhere - through every bone and muscle and every thought and vein. He wished he could tell Noah any of this. He wished Noah would understand.

Silent tears bubbled out of Ronan's eyes. Before Noah could comfort Ronan, Ronan withdrew and threw his fist into the wall of the building. He punched until blood dripped down his fingers and he was sweating and maybe had broken part of his hand.

Noah watched, jaw open in horror, eventually leaping forward and hanging all his weight on Ronan's arm. He hadn't anticipated it having such a little effect. Ronan's lip curled and he lifted Noah off the ground by his strength alone. He gave a rough shake and Noah let go.

"What do you want me to do?" Noah asked, nearly to tears himself, voice trembling. "Why are you like this?"

Ronan covered his eyes, pressing dark red fingerprints on his lashes. "I don't fucking know."

-

That night, Noah claimed he was going home for the week. And Ronan gathered enough alcohol to get him through seven nights of blackouts. Gansey, after tying Ronan's damaged fists into bandages which immediately soaked through and had to be changed, installed a punching bag in the lower level of Monmouth.

Without Noah, the entire factory felt heavy with a dry heat built up over the summer and only now decided to distribute. At night, when Ronan lay awake unable to fall asleep, even halfway through a bottle of vodka, the walls creaked and echoed more than he'd ever noticed before. He could hear Gansey pacing, pausing outside his room, listening for any disturbances. Early on, when Ronan didn't leave the bathroom for twenty hours due to excess vomiting, Gansey remarked that he was surprised how little Ronan actually got sick, while holding a cool washcloth on the back of Ronan's neck. Gansey was a good caretaker.

When Ronan closed his eyes, he saw his father and those birds. He saw Kavinsky laughing smoke into Gansey's face. He saw Noah sitting on his hips. He saw blood and fire raining from the sky. He saw orphan girl. He saw his father, fighting for his life and losing. 

He wasn't going to sleep.

Kavinsky's drugs usually knocked him into mostly dreamless sleep, but now that there wasn't any left, he was afraid. He promised himself he was done with Kavinsky. For the last time. He ignored the inappropriate texts and deleted them instantly, eventually pitching his phone as hard as he could at the wall.

He stormed out of his room, ignoring Gansey at his Henrietta model, and went straight for the punching bag. His hands hurt, and a few practice punches split open his wounds and Ronan grudgingly stripped into a pair of shorts and aimed a few kicks at the bag. He hadn't worked his kicks in a while and his hips loosened up over time and he could consistently kick the same place on the bag above his head after an hour.

When his feet became too tired, he pushed harder and did another set and dropped to the ground to finish some stretches.

Gansey was sitting on the stairs, watching. He had his glasses on and a piece of paper in his hand. Whatever it was, he didn't bring it up. Instead, he said, "Did you and Noah fight?"

"I didn't hit him if he's telling you that I did." Ronan sneered. 

"No," Gansey said, his eyebrows drawing together. "He didn't say anything. You both just got moody after you talked at the garage." His tone said nonchalance, but his jiggling knee and the fingers at his temple said the opposite.

Ronan stretched forward, folding in half to wrap his hands around his feet. He hadn't planned on responding, but the expectant silence from Gansey made Ronan feel like he was in trouble. Raised Catholic, he was familiar with confession, but he'd never encountered a person like Gansey that made you want to confess everything you'd ever done wrong. He exhaled out his nose. "I don’t want a casual thing. I had that and fucking hated it."

Gansey straightened with interest, his leg growing still. "With Kavinsky?"

Ronan closed his eyes. "Yeah." Granted, his relationship with Kavinsky was decidedly less sexual than Noah's (though not for lack of trying in the years before Gansey showed up), Ronan thought the same rules should apply.

"And Noah is too casual?"

It felt unfair to point out Noah's faults when he wasn't there to defend himself. And Ronan shouldn't have been so worked up about such little things. But he hated the way Noah gave himself to everyone fully and on fire and it was so wonderful when he wanted you but it was like peeling skin and itchy fingernails when he didn't.

Through his teeth, Ronan hissed. "What are you saying?"

Gansey sensed he crossed a line, but he wasn't about to back off just because Ronan's voice had dropped low and deadly. This was the moment where most people realized that Ronan wasn't the kind of person to be around, if they'd gotten past his initial appearance. With his already sharp features, accented with his shaved head and menacingly complicated tattoo, he looked like he belonged in jail. Gansey had known him long enough now to know that wasn't entirely true. "You're not holding yourself to the same standards. You and Kavinsky still-"

"We haven't done anything recently. And I don't go around flirting with every fucking person I see like I wasn't just blown two seconds earlier, unlike either of them." There was a beat of silence and Ronan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest and putting his head to rest on top.

"What do you want?" Gansey asked and the question had too many endings. From Noah? From me? To do? Right now? In life? 

He thought of his parents, their easy love. If he and Noah had waited until Ronan was healed enough after Niall, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he would have been less afraid that Noah would abandon him for Gansey, for someone better. The timing was wrong, Ronan thought. Any other time in Ronan's life and this would have been okay. But that didn't change the fact that Niall was dead, that Noah was gone, that Gansey was expecting an answer.

Ronan said softly, "I don't want anything less than everything."

-


	13. Chapter 13

"So you weren't dating, but you broke up?" Adam summarized, moving his toolbox just far enough away to prop his feet up. He was on the tail end of his lunch break when they'd all come to visit. 

Ronan picked at his fingernails while Gansey hesitated and looked at the posters on the wall, saying, "For the most part, that's exactly what happened." And leaving it at that.

"Are you not friends anymore?" Adam chanced a look at Ronan, which was a mistake. Glaring blue eyes were trained on him and a sharp sneer broke through the already threatening countenance.

"We're friends. With explicit boundaries." Ronan stated. 

Gansey counted on his fingers, explaining with a disbelieving smile. "Accepted physical contact is strictly limited to pre-approved hand holding and shaking, hair petting, arm linking, and unintended accidental auxiliary touch as necessary such as sitting in a small car with no elbow room. Same as the rest of us."

Ronan pursed his lips, leaning back on the counter. "You forgot ass kicking and face punching."

Adam lifted an eyebrow, holding back a smirk. He didn't say anything but kept that subtle smile on the rest of the afternoon. He finished the crusts of his sandwich and washed his hands in the stained sink, going back to work.

They stayed at the garage, taking turns standing in front of the one upright fan in the whole place. Adam was the only mechanic in since the shop itself was closed and he wanted extra hours. They chatted easily, tossing a foam football between them, encouraging Adam to drink more water and sit down when his face got past a certain shade that bordered on purple instead of red. 

Ronan's phone beeped occasionally with texts which he didn't look at. Adam asked him for tools since Gansey didn't know much about cars and Ronan was laying on the bench closer to Adam. From his view, he could see the sweat stains in Adam's armpits and dark shadows with the suggestion of hair in the crease when he raised his arms. There was a purple mark in his elbow, which he didn't comment on and a scratch on the back of his hand that could not have been that old.

Ronan turned his head the other way, digging his cheek into the wood. 

"Pass me that pan." Adam said, indicating the shallow tray with a greasy black film on it.

Ronan kicked it over without looking and hugged his arms around the bench. He wanted a drink. Badly. Adam didn't like to drink or didn't at all and it turned Ronan's stomach over even thinking about it in his presence. 

Gansey's phone rang and he answered, hanging up moments later. He picked up his keys off the table and gave the last bottle of water to Adam. "Noah's back. He said a lot of birds got into Monmouth. I'm going to help him get them out. You two want me to bring you dinner?"

Adam slipped out of under the car and looked at Ronan, who was not going to participate because his heart had started pounding. He'd forgotten about his dream where birds had chased him from the Aglionby tennis courts to the Barns when he woke up. He had quickly escaped his room, closing in the birds that followed him into reality and nearly dragging Gansey straight to the mechanic's before they either got too loud or attacked them with their incredibly sharp beaks.

"That would be cool." Adam said, hitting Ronan's arm with a rag.

"I'll go pick something up." Ronan suggested, cutting Gansey off. 

Gansey paused. "Okay. I'll see you back at Monmouth."

Adam waved goodbye and waited until the Pig's squealing and grumbling faded. He poked Ronan with a wrench. "Are you mad at Gansey too?"

"I'm not mad at anyone."

Adam chuckled. He got up and stretched, aiming the fan at the both of them. He wiped his face off and undid the ties of his apron.

Ronan picked that moment to open his eyes, first catching sight of the top of Adam's plain green boxers and then a figure approaching in the open doorway.

It was Prokopenko. He looked out of place without his Aglionby vest, instead wearing something more representative of the oppressive heat, which was a pair of tennis shoes that were once white but now ripping apart at the seams and a nasty shade of gray, a sweaty t-shirt and a hideous pair of jean shorts. He'd seen Adam wear a pair similar but Adam had nice-looking legs instead of the hams that were passing for calves on Proko. It was almost like Kavinsky had taken over his wardrobe in the summer, though he'd never thought to put Prokopenko and Kavinsky in the same category.

Prokopenko was a good student, just kept to himself and looked down on everyone not only because he was unfairly tall, but because he came from one of the richer families that supported Aglionby. He wasn't stupid by any means, just overly independent. He had hair the color of wheat and freckles darker than Adam's with fairer skin to contrast it more. Green eyes, long nose, soft-looking mouth and strong chin with white teeth. Ronan had never seen him at any parties.

He handed Ronan the set of keys. "For you."

"What the fuck, Proko." Ronan recognized the keys instantly. He'd spent many late nights seeing them dangling from the ignition next to Kavinsky's fine-boned hand. Why Prokopenko of all people had them was the mystery.

Kavinsky had his gang and didn't expand it often. Most couldn't handle their lifestyle of parties, cars, sex, and drugs. Sure they went to school but only for show, only to invite people to bigger and better parties and races. Getting high and having sex was more fun with more people. At least according to them.

Prokopenko didn't respond to Ronan's exclamation. He turned to Adam. It was then that Ronan saw the uneven shoulders like he had a cramp in his side and couldn't straighten up. "I've got a flat tire out in the lot."

Adam nodded and led the way back to the lot where two cars sat. A white Mitsubishi with a shiny knife decal on one side and what Adam assumed was Prokopenko's Volkswagen, navy.

Ronan lingered behind them, clutching the keys in his hand. When Adam disappeared to get a jack, Ronan clicked the unlock button and slipped into the driver's seat of the Mitsu.

Nothing seemed amiss at first. The seat was back far enough and there wasn't any trash on the floor, or any indication that the car had ever been driven. Ronan put the key in the ignition and turned it, not far enough to start, but enough to see the spindles of the gages flick to life and the lights on the dash come on. The radio was off, full tank of gas. Nothing was wrong.

Until Ronan looked in the mirror and saw Kavinsky himself lounging in the back seat, shirt off, flicking a lighter open now that he didn't have to hide.

"Hello, Mr. Lynch."

Smoke filled the interior of the car as Ronan fought through every urge in his body to say something, to fight. But instead he put his head down on the wheel and said, "Fuck me," under his breath.

"I had a dream we did. Couple times." Kavinsky shared. "Want to make my dreams come true?"

"Fuck no. What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get in your pants because my life revolves around you, babe." Kavinsky laughed and flung his arm at the window. "Proko needed a lift and I knew that trailer trash kid works here. Little bird told me you'd be here to, so I thought I'd bring you a gift."

Ronan swore, banging his head into the top of the wheel, ending his rant with "-didn't ask for a fucking stalker."

Kavinsky's teeth were white as they grinned at him. "Heard you had a breakup. Got tired of Dick's dick?"

"It's not Gansey and it wasn't a breakup." Ronan snapped. "How the fuck do you even know about that?"

He only shrugged as an answer. "Does Proko look okay to you? Like he used to?"

"What?"

"Does he look like he did last year?"

"Got a sudden hard-on for Proko?"

"Have you seen him? Of course I fucking do. But I'm serious."

Ronan caught Kavinsky's eyes in the mirror. "Are you sober?"

"I can't be high all the time." Kavinsky smoked for a moment while Ronan tried to remember the last time Kavinsky hadn't been on something that turned him into an asshole. "His ears are wrong. And he's mellowed out, you know? Used to put up a fight."

They watched quietly while Adam worked, Proko standing eerily still over him, eyes glazed over, unthinking. 

"I fucked him up I think." Kavinsky mumbled.

Ronan was confused. Considering the few times he'd paid attention to Proko's character, there was something off about him. His shoulders had no will, sloping too easily down, his expression blank like he'd never experienced any kind of feeling.

"What do you mean?"

Kavinsky's wolfish smile was back. "Don't worry about it." 

Ronan didn't respond. In the silence that was tense where it had been filled with mistrust before, Ronan didn't try to look back at Kavinsky, no matter how much he wanted to know what the tattoo across his collarbones said. He watched the curve of Adam's back as he crouched, occasionally asked Proko a question and turned to the flat tire.

"You need more pills?" Kavinsky asked like he was asking for the time. "You haven't hit me up in a while."

"No." Ronan answered firmly. He threw the keys in the back seat. "And keep your fucking car."

-

The first week back at Aglionby, Ronan almost regretted his promise to Gansey. He forgot why he even said he would come back until he saw the gleam in Gansey's eyes when they ended up parking next to each other that morning despite Gansey leaving ten minutes earlier because Noah wasn't ready to let Ronan leave before they talked.

Noah stuttered through an apology and held Ronan's hand while he did. Ronan said the timing was entirely wrong and they let go, still friends. Noah rode along with Ronan and ran off as soon as he got out.

"Someone's excited." Ronan said, bumping knuckles with Gansey.

Gansey adjusted his side bag, resting a hand on it, not quite looking at Ronan's chin. There was something uneasy in his expression, but nothing that a short smile couldn't hide. "I'm glad you're here, Lynch."

"That makes one of us. Where's Parrish?"

They walked through the parking lot towards the gymnasium, where there were tables set up for all of Aglionby's clubs and organizations to join. It was mainly for the freshmen and transfer students, but Gansey still looked around, greeting nearly everyone he knew, putting his name down on a few sign-up sheets. Ronan watched with disinterest, scanning the crowd for Noah's hair or Adam's eyes.

He kept his hands in his pockets, anxiety already growing with the number of people casually bumping into him. Then someone poked his arm, too hard to be an accident and Ronan almost rounded with a fist.

"You look awful." Adam said, cradling a worn textbook under one arm, pressed with a sticker that said "rental". His uniform was ironed, though the same one he'd worn the previous year despite having grown across his shoulders and his arms were a little longer. The ends of his shirt were barely tucked into his belt. He was smiling despite a scratch on his temple stretching into his hairline, less than a day old.

Ronan's attention immediately went to Adam's mouth, to his straight teeth and those impossible freckles on his lips. He remembered Aurora pointing to the small freckles on his own arms, telling him they were angel kisses. He pictured blindingly beautiful figures in white leaning over his arms when he was younger, now daring to kiss Adam on his mouth, his neck, his shoulders, and likely on every part of his skin. "So do you." Ronan replied, looking down. "What happened?"

"What?" Adam stuttered quickly. "I hit my head." His fingers traced the line on his forehead.

"On what?"

"A car."

Ronan swallowed over his response because Adam was back at peace, glancing over his schedule one last time. He'd never met Adam's parents and didn't have to. Rage burned under his nails. Niall wouldn't even think about hitting any of his sons. Niall wouldn't let anyone who did get away with it - which was part of the reason why Ronan's fists were already tightening. 

His heart pounded in his throat. Niall was dead. He wasn't going to cry at school. Not here, not now.

Adam grabbed the strap of his backpack and nudged Ronan's side. He tipped his chin towards Gansey, who was now arm in arm with Henry Cheng. Henry was talking animatedly about something political sounding and Gansey was struggling to keep his pleasant smile. Half the crew team had gathered around and were trying to start a chant but failing.

The actual hallways of school were rather empty with the exception of a few teachers in small huddles cradling cups of coffees. They mostly ignored Ronan, having heard what had happened to his father over the summer and noting his more intimidating presence. They nodded politely to Adam, who was a good student if a little quiet. 

They shared the first class and got to the classroom early, grabbing window seats while they were still available. Most teachers didn't enforce a seating chart. Adam set his backpack over the desk in front of him for Gansey and Ronan took the seat behind him.

The first half of class, Ronan stared at the back of Adam's neck, counting freckles and tracing the shape of his hairline onto the empty sheet of notebook paper while the teacher went on and on about expectations of the class. Adam was taking quick notes and Gansey was listening intently, spinning his pen between his fingers without writing a single thing down. Across the room, Kavinsky was sleeping with his head down, the only member of his gang in support being Swan, who was obviously texting under his desk. They both looked hungover.

The teacher read through the syllabus and Ronan watched out the window. 

He didn't want to be here. Niall would have made him go back, had he been alive for an opinion. Though Ronan was good at fighting, he had too much going on inside him to make it professionally. Not that Ronan would want to. He didn't know what his future career held but it wasn't going to involve boxing. Gansey must have known that too. And Ronan, keeping his promise, made it through the first day.

-


	14. Chapter 14

Monmouth was getting hard to navigate. Gansey's model of Henrietta had expanded to the north side of town and the only way to get to the bathrooms and the bedrooms was to walk between the rows of buildings that were the copy of Main Street. Textbooks replaced Glendower-related books on Gansey's desk and the pile that was once dirty summer clothes was now the drop-zone for backpacks and equipment bags and dirty uniforms.

The things Ronan dreamt about were gathering their own pile in the corner of his room. Clothes, bottles of glue (so strong that Ronan accidentally stuck three of his fingers together for two weeks), bird feathers, candy bars, alcohol, plastic cups, bottles of ink, dirt, useless keys, coins with holes in them, half-burned cigarettes, a nose ring, pencils, a wooden crate, a calculator that could only subtract, a single sleeve of an Aglionby sweater, a notebook filled with Latin notes, the buckle of a seatbelt, more alcohol, more bird feathers, a watch with hands that spun backwards, and a video game that Matthew would have liked. Among hundreds of useless other things. Ronan had caught Noah digging through the junk once but Noah didn't ask where the things had come from and why Ronan was not doing anything with them.

Almost daily, Gansey and Ronan worked out with their respective teams and, depending on how motivated Ronan was (which was often not that much), they would go see Adam at the mechanic's or go wandering in the woods. Sometimes, Gansey would do his homework, reading his notes out loud so Adam could have the benefit of doing something school-related while fixing cars and Ronan could hear Gansey's doctoral voice explaining proofs and historical events. Ronan recited Latin conjugations, shouting endings of verbs over the racket of Adam's tools, the radio, and whatever boisterous engine he was working on. It counted as studying because Adam and Gansey aced their quizzes and Ronan passed.

Noah was in and out, recently taking to sleeping next to Gansey rather that curled around him when the nights got colder and freezing cold feet were not appreciated. Ronan, despite his strict rules of accepted touch, allowed Noah into his room, where they played checkers and Noah taught Ronan to play chess and once picked up a guitar, supposedly stolen from the Aglionby band room, to teach Ronan a few chords on the bad nights. Sleeping less and less, Ronan's grades went down and down until Adam had a glorious weekend off and spent all of Saturday with them, reading biology notes out loud, practicing skateboarding, and going for a hike in the foothills twenty miles north of town. The closest Ronan had been to the Barns since he'd stolen the BMW.

"I didn't say that it was going to be easy," Gansey said, zipping up his jacket. He breathed on his hands and stuck them in his pockets. 

Ronan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. He'd started drawing a few designs for more tattoos on his arms more out of boredom than anything else. "It's not gonna hold us all."

"Then we'll go one at a time. But you should go first. You're the -" he almost ended the sentence with heaviest, but he didn't think that would end well for him, so he said "tallest."

Gansey stepped out of the way and let Ronan actually look at the rope bridge they'd come across. One thick rope to walk on and two skinnier ones near elbow height with small planks binding them together in what looked like a sparse V shape all the way across. It was shockingly similar to the ones Niall had made or dreamed or come by and thrown up in the rafters of some of the barns and let his sons play on, high above ground level. Aurora didn't know about it or she would have had a heart attack if any of them fell. They never did, and none of the Lynch sons had a fear of heights. 

"It's not gonna hold." Ronan said again. "I'm not falling into a river just to see what kind of bird is making that fucking noise."

The noise he meant was the one that had been following them for a while and Gansey had recently suggested it might be a bird. It was two low whistles, slow and airy, and a slide up to a higher pitch where it held for a second and then started over. When Ronan listened hard enough, his skin crawled.

"It looks steady." Adam offered, giving the one of the ropes a rough tug. His palms were scraped where he'd fallen trying to go down the big hill vertically on Noah's skateboard. His knees were battered too and there was a large bruise on his elbow. While Gansey took off for the store for a bag of frozen peas to use as an icepack, Ronan and Noah were in charge of damage control. Which meant Noah chased after the skateboard that had kept rolling down the hill when its rider did not, and Ronan helped Adam back to his feet and tried his hardest not to imagine the other time he'd seen that much blood and more on a slab of concrete. 

Ronan swallowed bile and huffed. He should have brought alcohol. But he didn't. He set one foot on and dropped his weight too quickly, feeling the rope, half green and slippery with moss, bend under his step. He gripped the supporting ropes on the sides, angling his feet like walking a tightrope.

Gansey and Adam held their breaths while Ronan made his way over. He paused halfway to glance down at the river below. If he'd just take one step left or right, Ronan would fall. Just one step. He swore at a flock of birds that erupted from a tree and kept going.

When he slipped on the muddy ground on the other side and landed on his ass, dirtying his bare arms and his entire backside, Adam laughed and started across the bridge. Thought more cautious and lighter than Ronan, Adam too made it, and stepped over the Ronan-shaped print on the mud. 

"You have something on your back." Adam snickered and shrugged away with a small sound when Ronan swiped his muddy arm at Adam's side.

"Shut the fuck up." Ronan growled, shaking his arms off with no visible difference. 

Gansey shuffled over, side stepping, taking Adam's hand when he offered.

"It's muddy, careful," Adam said and Ronan swore.

Once they were all upright on solid ground, Gansey took a survey of their new surroundings. The trees were different here - paler and taller, though nothing particularly notable.

Adam wrinkled his nose. "Smells like something's burning."

They all inhaled and agreed that the ashy smell was not natural. Forest fires were not exactly common in this area with the regular amount of rain. All of the senses Ronan felt were off in some way - the smell, the sound of the bird, the look of the trees, the mud on his arms. Had this been one year ago, even six months ago, he would have shivered in the cold air. Both Gansey and Adam had jackets on, but Ronan radiated warmth from the inside out.

It wasn't coincidence that his friends were a step closer than they'd usually be. He wanted a drink. Or a pill.

He'd done his best to stay away from Kavinksy and for the most part it had worked. The only time it didn't was when Kavinsky cornered him in the bathroom and grabbed his chin, standing close enough their hips almost touched. His only message was an invitation to a party, which Ronan passed up without a second thought because Gansey preferred to supervise when Ronan drank. It didn't change the fact that Kavinsky's medications worked and Ronan wanted them. Fortunately, he liked being on Gansey's good side more.

"Look at that," Gansey announced, flinging his arm up to the trees. There were white birds that looked that gulls but too comfortable in trees and far away from the coast. When they tipped their chins upward, the strange whistling stopped.

"Birds, great." Ronan said. "Never seen those before."

Adam was quiet, taking slow breaths in the fresh air. The tense lines in his forehead softened and it was easy to imagine for a second that he got enough sleep, didn't work three jobs, didn't go home to a trailer park, and was still doing well in school. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up.

"They look like pigeons."

"Call the fucking nutty professor. He like pigeons, doesn't he?" Ronan said while Gansey did get out his cell phone.

He climbed onto a rock closer to the river for a better signal and dialed.

Ronan leaned back against a tree and waited. Adam moved a step closer, keeping a wary eye upward. "I thought you hated birds." Adam noted conversationally.

"And?"

"You're not swearing at them and you're in a prime shit-zone."

Ronan glared, first at Adam, and then at the flock far above his head. He didn't say anything as he moved away from the canopy and sat down on the flattest non-muddy surface he could find. Adam followed silently, picking at the scabs on his palms.

"Why couldn't Noah come along?" 

"Had other plans with his skateboard." Ronan said, far too loud for their present chat. "Didn't want to come."

Though Noah and Ronan had been on friendly terms, it was a rule between them all not to ask how exactly it worked. The nights when Noah spent too long admiring Ronan's jawline and dark eyelashes, cracking inappropriate jokes just to see Ronan's dangerously beautiful smile, he had to excuse himself sometimes to whine to Gansey. And Ronan knew it was happening and his heart pounded too hard when Noah left - his nightmares came too easily without Noah.

But Adam didn't know that. "Are you two okay?"

Ronan's eyebrows drew together and his voice dropped low. "We're fucking fine."

"Are you?" Adam cracked a small smile.

"Not like fucking fucking, we never- God, we're fine." Ronan huffed, getting to his feet.

Adam couldn't help a chuckle. He tugged at his sleeves and took Ronan's place on the rock. He crossed his legs and looked over at Gansey who was desperately trying to imitate the sound of the birds with an off-tune whistle.

"I work tomorrow morning." Adam started. "Will you and Gansey come by?"

"I promised Matthew I'd go to church tomorrow."

There was a brief sense of pride when Adam actually looked disheartened, swallowing once and nodding, like he expected an answer like that. 

"I'll come by after." Ronan said. "And save you from Gansey's god-awful whistling."

-

The Lynch brothers were raised to believe that if your shoes did not show your reflection, you did not wear them into any sacred space. Ronan had strayed from the road of faith and hadn't been in St. Agnes since Niall's funeral. He wasn't planning on going back either until Matthew had called him, and then Gansey when Ronan didn't answer his phone. 

After very little persuasion, Ronan agreed. 

So Ronan decked himself out in a suit, regrettably since the church may as well have been on fire it was so hot with a broken air conditioner. But for the sake of unity and matching his brothers, Ronan kept his jacket on, allowing himself to loosen his tie and letting his neck breathe.

He threw an arm around Matthew's shoulders, refusing to wince when Declan glared at him. Declan looked a lot like Niall, dressed up in Sunday best and actually combing his hair. His jaw had filled out over the summer and his shoulders had gotten wider, though had no further confidence, but rather a weariness that wasn't there before. Matthew's hair was as tamed as it could be, which was to say hardly at all. Seeing the ridiculous curls made Ronan miss his formerly longer hair, but not enough to consider growing it out again.

Ronan got through the Mass without once looking at Declan until the sign of peace, where they shook hands formally like they weren't brothers and didn't acknowledge that they hadn't seen each other in far too long for going to the same school. When church was over, some families, overly caring parents and disinterested kids went on about how lovely it was to see all the Lynch boys together at church and so sorry to hear about Aurora and Niall both, such a tragedy, and how is she doing, how is school going, Declan, what are your plans for college, will the tennis team be any good this year, Ronan, and Matthew, have you been practicing your music? 

It was overwhelming, to be polite when all Ronan wanted to do was get away from Declan, strip off his suit, and go stand in front of the fan at Adam's work and maybe listen to Adam talk about cars or math or anything but how horrible Niall's death must have been. Ronan excused himself without a word, ruffling Matthew's hair one last time before dashing for the parking lot.

Declan and Matthew followed, quickly wrapping up the conversation and blessing themselves on the way out the door. They had to stop and greet the priest outside because they weren't heathens and no one blew off Father Mark. Especially not the Lynches.

Ronan was almost to the BMW and had his jacket off already.

"Ronan, what the hell?"

Not turning around, Ronan called out, "Fuck you, Dec."

"How on earth do you have the BMW? That was Dad's."

"I stole it." Ronan grit out, slipping into the driver's seat. Declan caught the door before he could slam it shut and get out. Matthew hung back a little, smartly avoiding a raging argument.

"You went back?" He hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard or cared. "Did anyone see you? If you're caught, we could lose everything we have - all we fucking have left, are you fucking insane?"

"Watch your language. We're on holy ground." Ronan said.

"I'll swear if I fucking want to. Ronan, you have less than two years until you're 18, it's not that hard." Declan said, his voice still low and furious like Niall's used to be when he got angry enough to make threats. "How long have you had it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it fucking does, how long ago did you steal it?"

"In June. A week after the reading. I haven't been back since." Ronan stated, hands gripping the wheel tightly thought the car was not on and Declan was not ready to stop arguing.

"You better not have. God, you're so fucking-"

"Is Mom okay?" Ronan interrupted, trying to keep his temper in check. Adam always looked at him funny when he saw bruised knuckles, black eyes, and not accidental scrapes. 

Declan sighed, not defeated, but done. "She's the same. Matthew calls the nurses every day."

They both took a moment to look over at Matthew who was shyly talking to a young family, sending their condolences to him and his brothers. 

"He misses you." Declan noted, sadly if he were capable of feeling anything but frustration towards Ronan at that moment.

"I'm not moving in with you." Ronan started. They both knew it would be a disaster.

"I didn't fucking ask you to." Declan snapped. "Just talk to him now and then. Or maybe answer your fucking phone for once in your life."

Ronan clenched his jaw, starting the BMW. He stared at the dashboard instead of his brother. "You come to church every week?"

"Yes."

"Same time?"

"Yes."

Ronan closed his eyes and kicked Declan away from the car door. "I'll be here." Ronan said. "Every Sunday."

-


	15. Chapter 15

All of them passed their midterms. Gansey took them out to celebrate the long weekend at Nino's where only he and Ronan ate the pizza because Adam refused to let Gansey cover his share of the bill when he'd spent the last of his pocket money treating himself to a rootbeer float and a glass of water. So Adam and Noah watched and laughed along as Ronan finished piece after piece, even taking Gansey's crusts which were left uneaten on his plate.

Noah was blowing bubbles into his soda and not drinking it, laughing at the intensity of Gansey's page turning. He'd had a thought about Glendower being further inland, somehow bringing in coal mines, and it had revived the search. Every day after school, Gansey reviewed his books and maps for hours and whisked Ronan to unexplored mountains and they climbed trees and dug up rocks with odd symbols on them and picked up trash. His energy was refreshing.

"What do you think, Adam?"

Adam looked up, tapping his finger on the top of his straw. "I have to work all weekend. But I don't think he'll be that far inland, at least no further than here. Getting him over the ocean would have been hard enough."

"That's a good point." Gansey mused. "But the coastline isn't going to be the same now as it was in the 1400s. Where we are could have been the coast back then."

Adam shrugged and glanced at Ronan, helpless. Most weekends, Ronan spent his time on the workbench in the mechanic garage, just talking to Adam about everything and nothing. They'd become friends because of proximity and Gansey's insistence that they try to be together all the time. Adam's glance though was a question and barely concealed desperation and loathing of a need for finances. Being around his friends made him feel better, and he hated when they went on adventures without him.

Ronan kicked his foot up next to Adam's thigh, a casual reassurance. "And you want to run to the ocean, guns blazing without any research?" In a silent thank you, Adam put his hand on Ronan's boot, his fingers pressing lightly around Ronan's ankle.

Noah cackled. "No research, Gansey, how on earth do you expect to find anything?"

Gansey sucked his lips in, thinking. "I never considered coastlines before. I'll have to go to the library tomorrow. I'll bring some books by the garage, if that's okay?"

Adam nodded once. He tangled his first two fingers in Ronan's laces and untied them with a smirk. Ronan kicked him and tried to bring his leg back but Adam held on to it and Ronan quit fighting, if only to feel Adam's fingertips slipping into his shoe next to his skin. 

The waitress came by again and cleared their plates and refilled their drinks and gave Gansey the check with her phone number at the bottom. Noah cooed and reached across the table at Gansey for the paper even though Gansey hadn't looked remotely interested in anyone other than the boys sitting across from him in more than two hours.

Adam finished his glass and handed Gansey the change in his pocket for his contribution while Ronan presented a shiny credit card and took the check to the hostess station. He almost stepped out of his boot when Adam tugged the laces completely undone before Ronan got up.

His friends went outside to wait and Ronan hurried, scribbling a quick tip on the bill. Noah was pointing to something on the ground and Gansey was trying not to look disappointed because it did look like something fecal-related. 

Adam was pulling his bike out of Gansey's trunk and Ronan went to him. "Your shoe is untied." He noted casually.

"No thanks to you, asshole." Adam almost smiled at that and he nudged the kickstand out to balance his bike upright. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I should head home." There was a pause. "You'll come over tomorrow?"

Ronan put his hands in his pockets and nodded. "I'll be hungover. But I'll be there."

Adam rolled his eyes. He picked out his jacket from the trunk, a gray hoodie with frays on the sleeves, not unlike Noah's. He slipped into it saying, "Aren't you cold?"

"I don't get cold anymore." Ronan said. It had been months since he reached for the heat dial in a car, and the last time it had been Kavinsky's. Since Niall's death, his blood burned with feeling and kept him on edge and usually overheated, which was part of the reason he grew attached to Noah so quickly he guessed. Noah always joked about being dead inside and his cold, dead heart and still put his arms around Ronan, though that was not part of the accepted physical contact they agreed on. Usually Ronan didn't mind unless Noah's mouth got too close to his neck.

"Teach me," Adam laughed, crossing his arms while Gansey and Noah finished their discussion about what kinds of things should stay on the ground based purely on their smell. "I'm gonna head out. Thanks for bringing me."

"Adam," Gansey chided. "We wouldn't have come without you. Do you want a ride back?" His voice may have been a little hopeful, but it didn't matter. Ronan knew how these conversations usually went down. Gansey would offer something not so ridiculous and Adam would deny and then later on when Gansey did offer something ridiculous, say paying Adam's entire Aglionby tuition, a fight started.

This was the former. Adam shook his head and bumped knuckles with Ronan, Gansey, and shook Noah's hand because Noah was a shit. "No, Monmouth is the other direction, I need the air anyway."

"I'd roll the windows down," Gansey tried to recover, but Adam was already straddling the seat and kicking up the stand. "Do you have a helmet?"

"I won't fall," Adam said, throwing a look at Ronan, who had produced an almost empty bottle of unlabeled liquor. "I'll see you all tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." Gansey replied without hesitation. "I'll bring lunch."

Adam didn't answer to that, only took a sharp breath in through his nose, either at Gansey's offer to bring lunch or Ronan's completion of the bottle. He waved a little and rode off down the street.

-

Ronan dreamt of climbing trees with trunks so massive he could hug them and still not feel the curvature of the bark. Conveniently though, there were ladders, all kinds of ladders and stepstools of varying heights, some barely a step off the ground, some crawling so high Ronan couldn't see where they ended. Ronan stepped up one of the taller ones that looked stable, and entered up in the misty canopy.

When the ground wasn't in sight, Ronan then noticed the branches - dripping with curtains of moss and wrapped with suffocating vines so tight that he couldn't pull any of them free. He sat on one of the branches with a diameter as tall as he was and then saw the birds.

Vultures. Eagles. Hawks. Ravens. Owls.

All perfectly still with blank eyes, they watched him. Ronan moved slowly back towards the ladder, holding his breath when a giant black bird landed on the top rung, shaking out its wings and settling in to stare. 

He swore at it to move, first gently under his breath, then raised his voice when a curious hawk pecked at the space between his fingers, catching a sliver of skin. Ronan kicked at the raven on the ladder, unsuccessfully, and the hawk on his other side went for his arm. 

He felt the slice in his skin like the opening of a sealed envelope, nearly the length of his upper arm. And none of the damn birds moved out of his way. 

The moss beneath him was slippery and he couldn't quite reach a lower part of the ladder without risking falling. But desperate times, Ronan thought. He scooted forward, launching himself off the branch towards a few steps down, barely catching a rung with his bloody hand. His feet flailed and suddenly the ladder was falling and his stomach went to his throat and Ronan was falling. Birds dove after him and seconds before Ronan hit the ground, Noah appeared.

Ronan gasped awake with a swear loud enough that Gansey stopped gluing a house together. Noah was at his side, holding his wrist and tugging him out of bed. The smudge on his cheek was dark, more like a wound than a bruise, stark against his ghostly white skin.

Niall's beaten face, distorted by the swings of a crowbar flashed behind Ronan's lids. His dented skull, broken nose, stray teeth scattered across the pavement, all soaking in thick blood. Ronan gagged over the side of his bed and Noah yanked him upwards before anything could happen. Ronan collapsed, dizzy, over the toilet, emptying everything he drank with an alarming taste and a poor memory of someone wrestling him into bed and threatening to tie his hands if he didn't stop punching the air.

Noah waited patiently until Ronan was well enough to drop all the way to the floor and pointed to the shower without a word. Ronan then felt the cuts on his arm and fingers, the moss and dirt beneath his nails. He undressed and Noah closed the shower curtain and then went back to Gansey. 

The water was cold and was not helping the headache forming. He was drunk going to sleep and hadn't had the proper intake of water that Gansey once lectured him on. Adam would be disappointed, but he didn't plan on telling Adam how bad he'd actually gotten. This night was nothing special - except it was more vodka than usual.

From the wound on his arm, blood ran down the drain and Ronan scrubbed his skin with whatever fancy soap Gansey had there until he couldn't smell the sweat of fear in his armpits or between his legs. His hand drifted down over his groin, allowing himself a few lazy pulls, enough to hitch his breath, but not enough to really get him going. Noah and Gansey were probably waiting for him and possibly listening for signs of distress. His head was pounding too hard anyway to concentrate on much else.

Noah had left a strip of gauze on the counter next to a clean pair of boxers, the first of which Ronan ignored. The wound was ragged and not deep enough for stitches and was miraculously bleeding very little. He would have to wash his sheets, surely. 

Instead of starting laundry, he crawled onto Gansey's bed, putting his head in Noah's lap and Gansey started talking about Glendower. Ronan's heart slowed down and Noah's cold hands were dancing over his scalp, fingers playing at the top edges of his tattoo. 

After an hour, just as the sun was coming up, Gansey yawned and said he should get to the library. Ronan sat up and Noah made a small noise. 

"Do you feel better?" Noah asked.

Ronan picked at the edge Noah's sleeve and didn't say anything. How could he explain that he was afraid to dream? That he was afraid all the time?

In a few minutes, Ronan dressed and he and Noah drove to the garage where Adam's bike was propped against the open door and he was leaning over a smoking engine. He grinned at their entry with a smudge of grease on his face that Ronan wanted to wipe off and stained hands. Noah turned up the radio and danced poorly while he did tricks on his skateboard and Ronan couldn't pick who to stare at longer.

It began to rain and the wind got stronger and Noah was soon back at Ronan's side, having almost burrowed his way under Ronan's arm. Ronan crossed his arms with a huff, kicking Adam's toolbox because he could. At this, Adam stood up, straightening his spine and putting on his best annoyed face, which wasn't that hard to conjure. He looked down at Ronan and Ronan clenched his jaw defiantly and almost looked away first. But Adam only slapped his hands together in front of Ronan's eyes and Ronan suppressed a snort and a blush when Adam only laughed and wiped his hands on his apron, going back to work.

Noah blinked at Ronan, and then at Adam. "Ronan, do you-"

"No." Ronan said. "I do not."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say." Noah groaned. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted to knit me a sweater since it's cold."

Adam coughed a laugh and Ronan threw a rag at him. "I didn't know you were a knitter, Lynch."

"You want a sweater too? Maybe with a big fucking A on the front for asshole. And an N for you for nuisance." He poked Noah in the stomach.

"Yes! And a G for Gansey. Ronan, you have to. You promised."

"When the fuck did I promise that?"

"Right now. I'm having Gansey bring over your needles!" Noah cackled and stole Ronan's cell phone, miraculously in his pocket and ran off while Adam was still smiling.

Ronan put his face in his hands, feeling the sharp sting of his newest dream-inflicted wound for the first time since it happened. He desperately fought off thoughts of Niall, in favor of annoyance at Noah. "I'm going to kill him."

"Oh come on," Adam said. "You know he'd wear that sweater all the time."

"Would you?"

Adam wrinkled his nose. "I'm not a big sweater person."

"You like vests?"

"Don't make me anything." Adam threatened.

"You're the one who brought it up. Vest?"

"No."

"Socks?"

"Lynch, no." Adam turned on him, pointing a dirty finger. "Don't make me anything."

Ronan was transfixed on the hand in front of him. The bony knuckles, flat, dirty nails, the ever-present freckles. He had the urge to grab it and hold it or clean it or kiss it or all of the above at the same time with his mouth. The tops of Ronan's ears turned red and he smacked Adam's hand away. "Christmas is almost here. You'll take what Santa gives you."

Adam rolled his eyes.

-


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little long - a lot had to happen.  
> Also possible suicide trigger warning near the end

Despite his earlier aversion and slight embarrassment of knitting, Ronan spent the next few nights trying to come up with casual ways to get the measurements for his friends. When Noah was off doing things and Gansey was working on his model, Ronan stood in the center of his room, clearing a place to stand among the clothes and dream junk. He imagined the times before, how Noah had to stand on his toes to kiss him, and could comfortably fit his arms around Ronan's waist and hold his own hands. But Noah would want a looser sweater, and longer sleeves would be better since his hands were always ridiculously cold.

Gansey was a touch easier since Ronan had kept a few of the polos from his more active dreams before. Since Niall's death, Ronan hadn't thought much of how little his good dreams starred Gansey or Noah. Ronan plucked a particularly vivid orange polo from the pile, allowing himself a fond memory of slipping it off Gansey's shoulders. He measured it loosely with the width of his own palms and made a note on a scrap of paper with the designs for his future tattoos. Gansey was shorter than Ronan and had shorter arms and definitely a fuller frame than Noah.

But Adam, Ronan had no idea. It was so rare that Adam was standing at full height next to Ronan - he was usually bent over a car or a desk - and in a decidedly not sexual way. And Adam was built differently than all of them, having a leaner body, and more definition than bulk. And what colors did Adam like? Noah would take anything, Gansey probably would prefer a dark green, but he'd rarely seen Adam in anything but his plain solid colored t-shirts, usually white or gray. 

It shouldn't have been this hard. Ronan hugged his arms together, scratching at his shoulders, thinking. He wasn't subtle enough to whip out a ruler. Adam didn't even like sweaters, he said so himself. But the boy got cold and Ronan didn't know what to do.

Ronan picked up his knitting needles and pitched them at the wall just as Noah entered. "Gansey needs to ask you something."

Ronan paused next to Noah in the doorway, looking over his chest, taking mental notes. Gansey was lying face down on one of the roads of Henrietta, crushing his glasses into his forehead. Ronan nudged his side with a toe. "What's the matter?"

"My sister is coming. In three hours."

"And?"

Gansey sighed and left his head fall to one side. Even on the floor, his glorious hair was as perfectly messy on purpose as it could be - a look Ronan could never pull off when he had hair long enough to be considered messy. "We need to clean. And she needs a bed."

"Hell no. Give her a fucking hotel suite, she'd probably like that better." Ronan crossed his arms. 

"Can't you just clean your room a little and change the sheets?" 

At the suggestion that Helen, a Gansey sibling used to do-not-touch signs in their own home, even set foot in Ronan Lynch's room whether on purpose or not, Ronan laughed in warning. "I have too much shit. Put her in Noah's room."

"He said he needs it." Gansey whined, taking off his glasses and rubbing the indents out of his forehead.

"For what? There's not anything in there. He probably farts roses," Ronan said, and from Ronan's room, Noah called back "I do not!"

Gansey's voice turned serious, no longer pleading. "He said he needs it. I'm going to respect that."

"Then I need my room. Please respect me."

"Ronan," Gansey groaned. "It's one night."

"Tell that to Noah." Ronan turned around, pushing Noah out of his way and heading for his desk where he'd left his headphones.

He put them on, turned the volume up as loud as he could stand and sat on his bed quietly, drowning his thoughts in music. Soon after, Noah crept back in with a deck of cards. He didn't ask Ronan to stop his music or at least move the headphones down around his neck, so Ronan didn't. They played poker, betting with a handful of useless dream coins with the wrong presidential faces on them. Noah fingered the outline of his bruise while he thought and Ronan watched him, disinterested.

By the time Ronan had all but two of Noah's coins, Gansey knocked on the door and said that Helen had arrived.

Helen Gansey didn't exactly look like Richard Gansey except that they both had the same careless, tousled, and attractive hair, pleasant eyebrows, and incredible intelligence. She had a long pea coat on and a red dress and gray leggings like she'd come from a dinner date. Her hair was braided neatly and she was currently taking out her shiny silver earrings. She used Gansey's shoulder for balance and stepped out of her shoes.

"Helen, this is Ronan and Noah." Gansey said.

She looked them over, assessing her little brother's friends. She approved of Noah because everyone did. But she hesitated at Ronan, his narrowed eyebrows, his frown halfway to a sneer, the healing knuckles and battle scars on his arms from the birds in his dreams. In the previous year, she'd heard the story of the deterioration of this Ronan Lynch - how he was when Gansey first moved into his house, on a farm, how he'd so readily helped Gansey prepare this monstrosity of an apartment, and how he'd spiraled down into mysterious unlabeled pills and too much alcohol since Niall's murder. And here he was, tattooed and bitter and palms itching for a drink.

"It's great to finally meet you both." Helen said. "I've heard a lot about you."

This was where Declan would have laughed politely and very fake and said 'I hope only good things' but Ronan was not Declan and never would be. Instead, he said, "Same." Though Gansey had been relatively quiet about Helen's existence, he'd picked up on her fondness of event planning from overhearing Gansey's phone conversations about flower arrangements and glass marbles. There was half a pause before Ronan said, "Well, I've got places to be. Don't wait up."

He picked his keys from his pocket and shook Noah off his elbow and headed for the door, holding back a satisfied smile at the complete shock on all of their faces. He wouldn't have anything in common with Helen. That much he knew. He paused down in the lot, looking at her shiny maroon Mercedez, not a scratch on it, probably new. It was a diamond, too good for this lot with the Pig and chunks of gravel and the blackened spot where Ronan and Gansey had burned so much junk only seven months ago. 

Ronan got into the BMW, rolled down the windows, and headed north, jolted suddenly that this was the way he would take if he'd been going home. To the Barns, which he owned but could not go back to. What had Niall been thinking? He turned off and waited at a stoplight for his pulse to settle. While the light went through the motions and the only traffic drove around him, Ronan cursed his father.

A horn beeped beside him and Ronan quit his blue streak. He looked up into the smirking face of Kavinsky, those ridiculous white shades covering his eyes, his elbow hanging out the open window. 

"The fuck you doing, Lynch?"

"Fuck you." Ronan said.

"If you want." Kavinsky said, like he always did in response to such a suggestion. 

It used to make Ronan flustered while sex had still been new and taboo in his Catholic upbringing. Now, it didn't matter so much - Kavinsky said stuff like that all the time. Still virginal in the only way that mattered to him (his own fingers didn't count, right?), Ronan knew actual sex would never happen casually. Kavinsky was always casual.

Kavinsky slapped his hand on the car door to get Ronan's attention back. "I'm having a gathering at my place. Say first one to the sign gets… hell, I don't know, what do you want, Lynch?"

"A drink," Ronan said more to himself but Kavinsky still caught it.

"Fine. You need my address?"

"Fuck you." Ronan rolled the windows up over Kavinsky's laughter. 

The light was red. Ronan shut off the radio and watched the other light, hand on the gear shift, feet on the clutch and the brake. He didn't look at Kavinsky - didn't want to risk missing the light change. He counted through the yellow light and held his breath.

Green. The only sound Ronan could hear was blood rushing through him, his pulse electric and alive. They shot forward, shifting once, twice, and on the third one, Kavinsky in his white Mitsubishi lagged behind just a little, and Ronan finally exhaled. 

This is what his dreams felt like, always near the end. The exhilaration of being on the edge of wakefulness was intoxicating. Niall used to say always think how you got to wherever you are - if you can remember, you're not dreaming. At that time, when the speedometer was climbing up and up, Ronan couldn't remember leaving Monmouth, couldn't remember turning onto the highway, couldn't remember taking the road past his childhood home, slowing down at the driveway just for a glimpse of the green shutters and overgrown grass, the porch swing that they never used because it squealed at a pitch that oil could never fix. He couldn't remember stopping in the middle of the road, trying to see any of the big barns on the property through the trees. He couldn't remember crying with the ache, the want, the need to go home.

All he felt now was falling away. In a moment, if he was dreaming and at this point Ronan wasn't sure, he would wake up. At least, he thought, there were no birds attacking him this time.

The Henrietta sign blew past him in a whirr of brick red and 'come back soon' and Ronan took his foot off the gas, slowing to a more reasonable speed, still well over the limit. Kavinsky's headlights burned in the mirror, bright and blue because he could never settle for ordinary. Ronan caught his breath and drove by memory rather than explicit knowledge.

The cars parked in every available spot on the lawn gave the away the right house. A kind of farm house only because of the plot of land it was on and the presence of a nearby rusted tractor. It was more like a country club than Ronan recalled, more brick, less siding, more windows, less wall. The majority of the people were inside apparently since only two people were out front trading a smoking joint between them. The music was less angry party rock than slow let's get high beats.

By the time Ronan got to the kitchen, his mind shutting down in the presence of so much smoke, colors, strange unreal colors of smoke instead of typical ashy white, Kavinsky was already downing a yellow capsule with a cigarette in hand. He poured Ronan two shots of the nearest liquor bottle and two for himself and they downed them together, one after the other. It was a cinnamon whisky, harshly edged and calmed Ronan's nerves.

"Can I interest you in any herbal remedies? Got ahold of a new one, nice and clean, slow ride back down, not too bad." Kavinsky asked, feeling his pockets for whatever stash he had. Ronan shook his head and picked an empty cup, filling it with the second nearest bottle, which happened to be plain vodka. Swan had used it to make some kind of mixed drink, but he was now currently too high to function, sitting on Skov's lap in the other room. Kavinsky handed Ronan a white pill, the kind he'd been so familiar with and craved for so long, and drifted off without explanation, leaving Ronan alone.

Hesitating only a little, Ronan swallowed the pill dry. It tasted like dirt, but Ronan's heart accelerated like an addict finally getting his fix. 

This wasn't a typical party since there were only the boys from Aglionby that Ronan recognized, plus a few kids from the public high school. Noah might have liked this kind of gathering. Heck, Gansey would prefer this to the raging summer mobs with bonfires and too often police. It was hard to picture Adam here though, but Ronan tried to imagine for a second, taking Adam's arm and leading him to something to drink, non-alcoholic of course, and maybe Ronan would have led him away to somewhere quiet where they could talk, relaxed. It was a difficult thing to imagine.

Prokopenko appeared then, so quietly that it almost startled Ronan. But not quite. He was very alert, his ears wide and perked like a dog's. "Ronan Lynch." He said. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been busy."

"I'll say."

A strange look passed over Proko's face, his cheeks flushing red and his teeth clenching together hard, something akin to pain. His eyes rolled back and closed and his breath stopped, his whole body jerking twice until he shook himself through a few weaker tremors back to normal. He exhaled long and slow and allowed a lazy smile before turning back to Ronan.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing," He said evasively. 

There was a loud bang - like a gunshot and all conversation stopped for a second. When nothing immediately happened, murmurs started up again. Like that kind of thing happened all the time. Maybe if this was an outdoor party, Ronan might have let it go. But this was a house.

"No, what the fuck happened?" 

"Kavinsky… nothing. I have to go." He slipped off towards the stairs, hopping up them two at a time.

Ronan lingered a bit, unable to stifle his curiosity. He ascended the stairs and peeked around the corner. Proko was standing in an open doorway, looking down at his feet. Kavinsky stepped out of the room and pointed at Ronan like he'd known all along that he would come. "Get over here. I want to show you something."

Ronan finished his drink and at the top of the stairs, he suddenly got dizzy, like the pill and those drinks in such a short period of time had all hit him at once. He braced a hand on the wall and had to wait for the wave of nausea to pass.

"Fuck you." Ronan hissed. He still obeyed, following Kavinsky into the bedroom.

Kavinsky laughed and said, "Already done." He spread his arm out, gesturing to someone on the floor, collapsed, naked from the waist down. "Chalk this one up to drunkenness."

"What the fuck, K," Ronan started. His voice caught when Proko kicked the boy onto his back and Ronan was looking down at his own face, empty of life. "Holy fuck,"

His second thought was that it was Declan. Third, Niall. Fourth, him, and he was actually incorporeal and on his way to the afterlife. Fifth, holy fuck, that's a fucking bullet hole, fuck, holy fucking fuck, hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.

"Do you understand or do I need to explain it?" Kavinsky asked, almost bored. Ronan didn't have words. Kavinsky leaned his close, his breath an inch away from Ronan's face. "I know your secret." He said, hot, too hot against Ronan's skin. "And I can do it too."

Kavinsky couldn't know. Ronan was careful, always careful about where he slept, and if he could control it, what he brought out. Kavinsky was bluffing. Had to be. But there was a dead Ronan Lynch on the floor, right there, supposedly from Kavinsky's own head, his dreams. Ronan's knees grew weak and he dropped to a squat, leaning against the wall, clasping his fingers over his head. 

"Don't act so surprised, you were never the only one." Kavinsky said, slapping Ronan's shoulder. He crouched down, putting his mouth too close to Ronan's ear. "Want to know how I knew?" He licked his lips, his hand curling around the back of Ronan's neck and holding tightly. "You used to doze in biology. Last year. Always had dirt on your desk." 

It was true. Ronan always swept it off before anyone noticed though. He hadn't counted on Kavinsky always knowing what it meant - always knowing that it was real. 

"Get the fuck away from me." Ronan said, shrugging out from under Kavinsky's hand. "I don't care what the fuck you know, this is fucked up." He pointed at his double on the floor and said, "He's fucking dead."

"That one served its purpose." Kavinsky noted dismissively. "Finally got Proko right, though,"

Ronan struggled to stand up, still dizzy. He shouldn't have drank so much. "Fucking Proko?"

"Yeah. There was an accident." He said vaguely, glancing over to Proko, still standing in the doorway, unsure what to do but not at all bothered by it. "The only problem is, when I fuck, he gets a little loopy. You must have noticed." Kavinsky paused while Ronan thought back only minutes ago when Proko looked like he was about to pass out, when Kavinsky was having sex with a dreamed up copy of Ronan - Ronan was revolted. Kavinsky tapped his chin. "I'm beginning to think this was too much for you." He went to his dresser, stepping over dead dream Ronan and grabbing another white pill, bigger than the one before. He offered it to Ronan.

Ronan grabbed the collar of his own shirt and pulled it down to let some air get to his neck. What the fuck was happening. He had to be really, really drunk. Or dreaming. 

Dreaming.

It was obvious. He was dreaming. Suddenly frantic, Ronan looked for something, anything, that could trigger him awake. Pinching himself never worked - it never had. 

The gun. On the bed.

Ronan dove for it just as Kavinsky shouted and launched after him, landing on top of his back. The gun was cold and Kavinsky's elbow was around his neck, cutting off all the air. Ronan dug his nails into Kavinsky's arm and dragged them down as sharply as his could.

"You're not fucking dreaming!" Kavinsky yelled, too close. "This is real!"

"Prove it." Ronan bit out, his face turning colors with insufficient air. Veins bulged in his forehead and his neck as his vision blurred on the edges and tears fell from the corners of his eyes. Fire ripped through his body, unlike the adrenaline of any other fight Ronan had been in.

Kavinsky let his arm go and Ronan flipped onto his back, immediately pressing the barrel of the gun to his own temple. "Lynch, I swear to fucking god, you're awake." He was panting and the scratches on his arm were blossoming with pink lines. "You're drunk. And hallucinating."

"What difference does it make?" Ronan closed his eyes. "Just make another one of me."

"Lynch, I can't replace you. I tried. But you're awake right now." Kavinsky said.

Before Ronan could react, Proko snatched the gun from his hand and Kavinsky shot forward, sitting all his weight on Ronan's lap, pinning him to the bed. Ronan swung, because he always punched before he tried to run. Kavinsky dodged because he knew this.

Kavinsky grabbed Ronan's arm and Proko held the other one. Ronan bucked his body up, kicking his legs out. With his free hand, Kavinsky shoved the large white pill into Ronan's mouth and covered his lips until Ronan quit fighting and swallowed.

"That's a good boy. You'll forget all this when you wake up." Kavinsky huffed, sitting back. He adjusted his position, eyebrows lifting at the familiar hardness underneath him. He lifted up and back down with a practiced arch and Ronan pressed his lips together, humming low and trying not to. 

Ronan's eyes flicked open, suddenly remembering who he was, where he was. "Get the fuck off me." 

Proko had been distracted and Ronan tore his arm free and decked Kavinksy hard in the temple. Kavinsky fell to the side and Ronan got up. He nearly vomited in the hallway, stumbling back towards the stairs. He was entirely too drunk and not drunk enough to rationalize his night. He wanted Gansey. And Noah and Adam. He wanted Niall. This wouldn't have happened if Niall had been alive.

Far too drunk to drive and smart enough to know not to, Ronan crawled into the backseat of the BMW and pressed his face into the cool leather. He didn't have his cell phone. Of course he didn't. Gansey would have been here in twenty minutes. Instead, he locked the doors and tried not to throw up again, waiting for this nightmare, one where he was apparently awake, to end.

-


	17. Chapter 17

"I don't mean to be rude, Lynch, but you've been acting weird all week." Gansey said, putting his fork down. He and Adam were sharing a bowl of takeout noodles and sitting in the breakroom at the garage, on cracked leather chairs under fluorescent lights.

Ronan was sitting in the corner with his arms tightly crossed, not eating. If Gansey had to guess, he'd say he hadn't seen Ronan eat or drink anything in the last few days other than four cans of the lime green energy drinks that were in Monmouth's fridge because Noah saw a coupon in the newspaper. His face had gotten worn and he'd aged more in the last week than he had in months.

Gansey wasn't stupid and knew in his gut that there was likely a party and likely Kavinsky. But this was different. Different because when Gansey asked, Ronan looked just as confused. Like he'd been caught in a lie and didn't have any idea how. Ronan hated lies, so if Ronan knew something, Gansey had to believe Ronan would say something.

Even Noah, who was practically an expert on interpreting post-Niall-Ronan couldn't get anything else out of him. 

When Ronan locked his bedroom door and put his desk chair in front of it, Gansey demanded that they go see Adam and that Ronan better at least pretend to be happy or else Gansey would remove all the doorknobs in Monmouth. To which Ronan responded with a sadistic smile, all teeth, no feeling, "if you could work a fucking screwdriver, I might be threatened."

Gansey was fairly comfortable with his ability to use a screwdriver since he'd once helped Roger Mallory build a desk chair without any instructions and who knew that there could be so many screws in a singular chair, and he was also friends with Adam, who probably had ten times the skill Gansey had. Twenty times. But the words were missing the joking tone that he'd expected and Gansey suddenly felt insecure about his knowledge of basic tools.

Ronan came along though, not saying much at all except to answer "fucking great" when Adam asked how he was doing. And abruptly stopped responding to any conversation thrown his way, including the comment that he'd been acting weird.

In theory, Gansey understood parties and alcohol, though he'd never been drunk or to a party on the same scale that Ronan was used to. His most recent party experience could be better described as a soiree for charity. Gansey wore a suit and danced with older ladies there was polite clapping and a speaker advocating for saving the bees, at which Gansey had to escape to the balcony with Helen. That was months and months ago. 

"Did something happen to you?" Adam asked to Ronan. He crumpled a napkin in his palm and wiped his mouth. 

"No." Ronan answered, because he didn't lie. "I've always been like this."

The trouble with that came from Ronan's belief that omission was a form of lying and they recently found everything being insulted. Nothing was sacred, not even Gansey's polos or Adam's work schedule. Of course, Adam fought him back, arguing that he needed the hours because, as if they didn't know, Aglionby wasn't free and if Ronan was going to complain, he could stop dropping by. Ronan never said anything more about it, but Adam had caught him several times since then, flipping through the pages of the schedule at the garage and making notes on the inside of his wrist with a permanent marker.

School was worse. Adam had worn a singular bruise into Ronan's side from the countless times he'd poked Ronan to pay attention. Ronan only grumbled and shifted in his seat, looking at the board for a second, then down to his empty notebook, then back out the window or at the clock if the room didn't have a view.

Classes with Kavinsky were awkward to say the least. His gang wasn't trouble without their leader so Gansey never bothered confrontation until Ronan had gotten into a fight, unprovoked, and nearly broken Proko's nose. Ronan was suspended for three days and spent it getting very intoxicated and spending too long at the punching bag in Monmouth's lower level and brooding to trashy music too loud in his locked room.

This was the last day of his suspension, a Thursday night, and Gansey recognized the symptoms of Ronan's future hangover. The subtle (or not so subtle) withdrawal from conversation, a second too long of delay before he said anything, a careless inspection of his fingernails, a pining look towards either Adam or to the door behind him.

Nothing Gansey said ever changed his mind, even when he presented a pamphlet from Aglionby's counseling center about early signs of alcoholism and depression. Noah thought it was a good move, whispering it so into Gansey's shoulder as they spooned together later that night. Here at the mechanic's with Adam right there, Ronan knew better than to sneak around alcohol. At least, Gansey hoped so. Only the day before, he took a long swig of Ronan's water bottle during class and found it to be bitter vodka and gin mixed together in a gross room-temperature martini. Ronan slapped Gansey's back, hard, to help him stop coughing and took a drink himself, not mentioning it again.

Adam got up from the table and went back to work after slipping on a jacket with too many stains because the garage was starting to get cold. Gansey read his notes out loud like they'd always done and Ronan stayed in the chair in the breakroom. Each Gansey flipped a page, he listened carefully for movement but Ronan, whatever he was doing by himself, was quiet. 

It wasn't until Adam had rubbed his eyes and yawned, dropping the hood of a Nissan closed that he said, "I'm gonna go."

Gansey followed him to the time clock and watched Adam press in a number and the machine beeped twice, and Adam yawned again. They peeked into the break room and caught Ronan still in the chair with his legs tucked up to his chest, his head tipped back, his mouth slack against the chair. 

"Has he been sleeping?" Adam asked, too low to wake Ronan and too low to cover the Henrietta accent that he'd hated.

"Not that I've seen."

"Have you?" 

Gansey shrugged and countered. "Have you? You need it more than I do." 

"You're both fucking loud." Ronan groaned from the chair. He'd put his legs down and was running his hand over his head, flattening his hair if he'd had any.

"Adam is done, get your coat. Did you want a ride home?" Gansey fetched his keys and Adam declined and Ronan grumbled something, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He fell behind while Gansey led the way to the lot and Adam made sure the door locked behind them. He grabbed Ronan's elbow sharply and was immediately met with a snarl.

"What." There was no hint of a question, only a reaction.

Adam almost flinched. It was the same tone his father had used too many times, the one without any mercy. He shook his head, changing his mind entirely about what he was going to say. He let go of Ronan's arm, feeling strange. What had he wanted to say? "Stop being an ass."

Ronan rolled his eyes. "Is that it?"

"That means to me too. It's annoying."

There was a beat of silence and Adam unchained his bike from the rack, heading towards the Pig. They said their goodbyes and Ronan glowered to himself in the front seat. He announced to Gansey that he would be going for a walk with a precious bottle and that Gansey shouldn't wait up.

"Shouldn't you have a weapon? I heard some kids got jumped not too far away from here." As soon as he said it, Gansey thought that Ronan, whose smile was a set of knives, whose knuckles were already brass, wouldn't need anything to defend himself. He was the weapon. The problem was Gansey wasn't sure if Ronan would care enough to know if he was losing.

Ronan said nothing and made a point to leave his wallet behind so that if he did get jumped, nothing of value could be stolen. Gansey watched Ronan stalk out of the parking lot towards the vaguely lit city. Noah approached his side, looking worried and tired, like he'd maybe just gotten some bad news. He put his cold hand into Gansey's pocket and said, "Stay awake tonight."

-

It wasn't a fucking bird. It was worse. A devil, a demon, a man. Murderer. But also part fucking bird. Black feathers, beady eyes, incredible wings, hollow bones.

Ronan stopped questioning why his nightmares always featured ravens, too big to be natural, too violent to be anything but unreal. They followed him everywhere, even into the waking world, too often. Noah had to be getting tired of smacking down birds when Ronan was drunk enough to sleep and dropping the bodies out Ronan's broken window into a pile where Gansey never saw. It was always fucking birds.

The problem, Ronan thought, was that he usually woke up at this point. He was in a park and this thing - was bigger than he was and had human-like legs, claws like swords, and a beak like the sharp edge of a shovel. With the tire iron in his hand - there was always a tire iron, bloody, and sometimes Niall's body to remind him why he shouldn't be sleeping - he swung at the creature, the nightmare, and sent it back a few feet. Not far enough to stall another swipe at his legs. This wasn't a bird, no, this was smarter than a bird - it knew Ronan's footwork. 

The problem, Ronan thought, was that he didn't know if he was dreaming. His battles never completed in his dreams and Noah was always there to help him finish them in the real world. But this familiar adrenaline was pulsing through his body, like it always had when he raced, when Kavinsky presented a new pill, when his skin split open. Flashes of the party came back to him, fearful wisps of someone else knowing his secret, an unmoving shape on the floor with his face but not quite, the end of a gun to his head, Kavinsky's finger in his mouth, forcing a pill. This time, no one was there to scream at him that he wasn't dreaming. He ran around the playground and beat the bird with a blow that would have killed any of its minions but only disoriented it. 

The problem, Ronan knew, was that he was awake. This wasn't a dream. So when the bird thing slashed at his left side, catching his inner arm and lower on his leg, Ronan felt alive. It was a pain unlike any that Ronan had experienced - a slow and warm fog sliding from his wrist - oh lord, his wrist was ripped open - to his shoulder, through his chest.

The problem, Ronan knew, was that he was going to lose.

He couldn't feel his arm anymore. His fingers were slippery with his own blood, red, red, the same color as Niall's, and his weapon dropped out of his hand and he was falling to the grass. 

He was going to die.

That was ok. Dying is easy. He'd done it so many times in his dreams to wake up, he imagined that he'd wake up in the afterlife, like this life was just a nightmare - a dream within a dream. He'd find Niall and everything would be ok. Dying was ok.

The fog was creeping up to his brain, shutting down his senses, one by one, first his hearing, cutting off the horrible screech the bird as it flapped its terrible wings and flew away, then the smell and taste of sweat and fear were gone, muted. 

There should have been sound. Should have been more - like Ronan was not himself anymore, an outsider to his own experience. Dissociated.

He didn't remember rolling onto his back, but damn, the stars were pretty. Ronan closed his eyes. 

This was ok.

-

Adam Parrish's cell phone was a piece of junk. He paid twenty dollars for it and the only good it had done for him was waking him up at ungodly hours when Gansey decided that was the best time to call. It shouldn't have made him angry that Gansey and Ronan and Noah were so rich that they didn't need sleep. That wasn't the truth and Adam knew it. But it still was annoying.

His phone was vibrating on the side table, chirping a tune that might have been catchy in any other circumstance. He swiped his hand out from his too thin blanket and flipped it open before his parents could wake up.

"Hello?"

"Hi Adam, it's Gansey." Gansey said.

"I know." Adam flipped onto his back, keeping his voice low. It couldn't have been long since he'd laid down since his windows were still dark. If he wrapped this up quickly, he could get another few hours of sleep in. "What's up?"

Gansey laughed nervously. "Nothing. It's just that Ronan went wandering out earlier, he was drinking again, and he hasn't come back yet. Any ideas where he might be?"

Adam froze. "How long ago?"

From Monmouth Manufacturing, Noah replied, voice shallow and scared. "Too long."

"I know it's late. But he's not answering his phone and he's been so good staying away from Kavinsky and I'm worried." Gansey said.

Adam could hear what Gansey wasn't asking. He could hear the plea to help him look, just as he'd pled without asking to join the quest for Glendower. But the double-wide trailer had a squeaky door because no one had bothered to grease it, and the neighbor's dog barked at anything that moved because no one had bothered to train it not to, and Adam's stomach knotted. He'd learned to be stealthy because fists flew if he was too loud.

Gansey had to know that it wasn’t easy, what he wasn't asking. But it was Ronan, and honestly, who knew where he could be? 

"I'll look at the bridge. And at school."

"Thank you, Adam. You know I wouldn't ask if I-"

"I know."

"Call if you find anything." Gansey hung up.

Adam slipped out of his blankets and blindly searched for his shoes, taking long breaths through his nose to be as quiet as possible. He measured his steps in volume, counting between each one, listening for any movement from anywhere in the house. His father didn't always sleep in the bedroom, the only other one in the double-wide. But the house was still. The worn couch with stuffing popping out of its overstretched seams was empty and the box TV was off. The kitchen was empty, no new beer bottles lined up by the sink.

Holding his breath and praying for silence, Adam opened the door. He pressed his weight down on the handle because sometimes it didn't creak if you were heavy enough.

Adam was halfway across the yard to the shed where he stored his bike when a hand yanked his collar back, choking him and dropping him into the ground.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

-


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some triggers for this chapter -mentions of suicide

Ronan's eyes blinked open. The steady click of a heart monitor, the low drone of a radio talk show, the flap of pages turning in the chair next to his bed all buzzed in his ears. He was aware enough to know it was a hospital and that the heartbeat was his and that it had to be Gansey, still here in the dark room, lit only with a dim yellow light.

There were white bandages, stained with dark blood already, around his left forearm, wrist to elbow and he felt a dull shock of pain when he flexed his arm.

"Hey, there he is," Gansey said quietly, closing his book. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, putting his hands on the side bar of the bed. There was a tense moment where Gansey didn't know what to say and Ronan slowly realized the situation.

Ronan closed his eyes and breathed out a slow, "Fuck." Heat flashed through his entire body. He was alive. Still. He remembered the creature - the bloody claws ripping through his wrists, swiping at his neck. He'd never felt so energized since Niall's death until he dropped to his knees and his vision went white. He'd never been more broken to wake up.

"How are you feeling?" Gansey asked, his voice still low like it was maybe not a proper time for conversation.

"Shitty." Ronan flexed his arm again, letting pain rip through him. At the same time, Gansey reached for the IV dial and adjusted the drip, letting more liquid flow into the back of his hand where a small needle was taped.

While Gansey settled back down, Ronan couldn't help the small noise in his throat. The beginning of tears. Gansey took his hand gently, careful to avoid touching the wound and said a soft, "Hey, it's okay," while Ronan turned his head away but didn't move his hand.

"It's not okay, I'm not supposed to be here. I should be dead." There was the bruised fact that Gansey didn't want to acknowledge first. Ronan's fingers tightened, relatively weak compared to the strength Gansey knew was there, but it still hurt. "I should be dead."

"No, Ronan, you're here." 

"Why didn't you let me die?"

Gansey frowned. "Because, you're my friend - practically my brother. What would I do without you?"

"You would have been fine." Ronan said, too harsh to be apologetic. He drew his hand out of Gansey's and cradled it into his stomach, on top of the hospital gown and the blanket too short to cover his bare feet. "Why didn't you let me die?" Ronan asked again.

"Why did you want to?" Gansey countered

"It was a distraction. All of it. It fucking - Shit. Gansey," His voice cracked over his friend's name and a hot tear leaked out. "When you talked about Glendower and the myths and you looked for it like it was real, it-" he choked on his words, shoulders shaking. "It made me forget. That my dad is dead. That I hate my life. That I hate this. I didn't- I didn't think about that when I was with you because you made me forget. And I can't keep forgetting - I can't,"

Gansey's lower lip was trembling, a shiver of fear nearly bringing him to a break down. "If you had told me, we could have done something sooner."

"You would have put me away if I told you. I can't fucking do this anymore." Ronan lifted his good hand and wiped his face. "I can't fucking do it."

"Ronan, this isn't the answer. We can get you help, whatever you want."

"I didn't want this. I don't fucking want this anymore." He sobbed. Gansey instantly was putting his leg over the side bar and wrapped his arm over Ronan's back, guiding his shaking body into his own. "I don't want to do this anymore, God, Gansey,"

Gansey hugged Ronan tighter, the only thing he could think to do. His own tears dripped down onto Ronan's hair, the longest it had been since before he cut it, back when he could laugh freely and slept well and wasn't traumatized. They clung to each other for too long, long after the morphine knocked Ronan out, long after two of the nurses on duty asked if everything was alright and if Gansey wanted anything, long after Noah called and asked if Ronan was still alive, long after Gansey talked himself through a panic attack about his own mortality.

They were both alive. Gansey repeated to himself. Both alive. Still alive. For now.

-

All of the Lynches were gifted with the ability to speak and shout louder than their given lung capacity suggested. Combined with their flashpoint temper, the Barns was often too loud. Ronan knew the night Declan got his first secret girlfriend, not only because he watched Declan take the phone out of its cradle and run up to his room, but he heard Niall's booming shout to get to sleep, coupled with a fist banging on the door. Ronan thought it was funny until Niall's (and Declan's) anger was focused on him, when he stole the Jeep after bedtime to go racing, where the police had caught him and Kavinsky.

Now, Ronan recognized the voice calling down the hallway, demanding to see his brother and that he didn’t care that it wasn't visiting hours, that it was four AM, or that he was causing a scene. Knowing there was little time left, Ronan pulled out of Gansey's arms and wiped his eyes. Gansey put his hand on Ronan's shoulder and climbed out of the bed.

Declan threw open the door, cheeks flushed and eyes wild like he'd had to battle his way in. A nurse chased after him and decided that he was alright after seeing the strong resemblance to the boy in the bed. Declan slipped his wallet back in his pock, on the verge of shouting, "God dammit, Ronan, what is it going to take for you to-" He saw Gansey then and immediately halted. His tone dropped low and serious. "Gansey, could you give us a minute?" Though borderline polite, it was not a request.

Gansey frowned at Ronan who wasn't looking at him, and went to the hallway.

In the time it took for Gansey to vacate, Declan had settled fractionally, and saw that for the most part, Ronan looked just fine. Aside from a scratch on his cheek and a long line of stitches - shit.

"Ronan," Declan started,

"Don't," Ronan said softly. Part of it was because Ronan couldn't make himself talk louder, he was still so tired, but also partly because, due to his blurry vision, Declan looked remarkably like a younger version of Niall.

Declan rubbed his hand over his eyes and back through his dark hair. He swore a litany under his breath and before he could stop himself, drew Ronan into a brief hug. They let go sooner than either of them needed. Declan dropped one leg onto the edge of the bed and sat, his hand curling around his own knee. "What happened?"

"An accident," Ronan said. An accident gone wrong - if he'd noticed sooner he wasn't in a dream, this wouldn't have happened. If he'd noticed sooner, he might not have fought so hard.

"No. That's not a fucking accident. You can do it, can't you? What Dad could." It sounded like an accusation but there was a note of awe.

Ronan promised Niall he'd never tell. It never occurred to him that Declan could have grown up in the Barns with Niall as a father and not known the secrets. They never spoke of it. This wasn't telling - not if Declan already knew. If Declan knew, he could have warned Ronan that something like this might happen.

"I knew it." Declan mumbled to himself, then louder, "Of course you fucking can."

"I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't know it was real." Ronan defended, but Declan was lost in his own thoughts.

"Does Gansey know?" Declan pointed vaguely to Ronan's wrist. 

"He thinks it was self-inflicted." Ronan said quietly. Technically, it was. That nightmare came straight from Ronan's mind. 

Declan nodded and fixed his jaw. "You have to stay here for a few days and get better. Meet with a therapist. I'll call Aglionby and get this straightened out."

"You can't tell them that I -"

"I'm not going to. I'm gonna say accident, you tell people what you want. I'll bring Matthew by after school." Declan dropped a fist lightly on Ronan's knee. "You swear you're okay?"

"Declan. I'm not fucking okay."

Declan frowned and for a moment, while his eyebrows drew together, he looked regretful. His mouth opened, and nothing came out for a second. He asked quietly, still touching Ronan's knee, "Do you want me to stay?"

Ronan, always too proud, stared down his toes peeking out of the too short blanket. He never admitted when he needed help and definitely not to Declan. Tears filled Ronan's eyes, wetting his lashes. Declan looked so much like Niall. If Niall hadn't been fucking murdered, this wouldn't have happened. "Sorry, Dec."

"For what?"

Living. Surviving. Failing.

"Nothing. Tell Gansey to come back."

-

The next few days went by in a blur. Matthew and Declan were there almost all the time, Gansey after school, a highly-regarded therapist for an hour in the morning, and nurses every hour on the hour. The attention and legitimate concern for his well-being was throwing Ronan off. He was so used to doing things on his own time for his own reasons that he forgot how long it had been since he really felt like someone cared about him. He'd taken Gansey and Noah, and Adam to a lesser extent since he was so often working, for granted.

He didn't deserve their attention.

Matthew and Declan were gone for less than a minute, off to find and bring back dinner, when Adam Parrish shyly knocked on the wall since he didn't have a door. He had a balloon with a happy face on it and words that said "get well soon" in distorted spacing - he must have forgone the helium in favor of his breath and was left with a rather sad-looking message.

"Parrish." Ronan greeted without any enthusiasm. "What the fuck happened to your eye?"

There was a bruise, on one side of Adam's nose, just high enough to cause swelling and a dark shadow under an eye. Ronan knew instantly it wasn't an accident and was likely from Robert Parrish. 

"It's old." Adam said quickly, tying the string of the balloon to the edge of Ronan's bed. There was a pause. "Gansey told me what happened."

Ronan clenched his jaw. Of course Gansey told. But Gansey didn't actually know what happened. Maybe Noah did, not that it really mattered at this point. It wasn't that Ronan actively harmed himself (though surely that's what Gansey would have implied), it was the fact that Ronan didn't fight it - that he'd accepted his own death so easily - that concerned all of them. "And?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

Ronan almost laughed. The scene was enough - a hospital, two beaten boys with bruises and stitches and little will to live. "Fucking great. When I don't have visitors, I have a nurse that sits in that chair to make sure I don’t pull out my stitches or impale myself on any sharp objects. The therapist tells me I'm zero percent in touch with my emotions and it's not good for internal balance. Shocker."

Adam collapsed into the chair with a sensible smile despite everything. "Paraphrasing?"

"No, he said zero percent." Ronan chuckled and turned his head just in time to see Adam show a sliver of teeth. "Weekly meetings with him after I get out, starting on Tuesdays."

"That's good." Adam said, his eyes flicking down Ronan's hand where the skin was puckered and irritated, where it had once been smooth and whole and laced with muscle. "I can't stay long, I've got work." He didn't say that he wanted to see with his own eyes that Ronan was still breathing, that he was the same angry person before, only more tired because he was weak due to blood loss and some serious internal turmoil.

"They're letting me out in a couple days." Ronan said, too hopeful despite his exhaustion. "If you want to come back before then."

Adam drummed his fingers on the armrest. "I have tomorrow off. I'll bring some notes you missed."

Ronan lifted his hand. "I can't write with this."

"I'll read them to you." 

At the accent that slipped out, Ronan closed his eyes. It was one of the few signs of genuine Adam - the kind that Ronan wanted to see but didn't know how.

"Thanks."

"I get off work at eight," Adam started, his face flushing pink after the words that sounded borderline flirtatious. "If you want to talk, you can call."

Ronan cracked an eye open, suppressing his fluttering heart. "Thanks, Parrish."

-


	19. Chapter 19

At Monmouth, Declan and Matthew were waiting for Gansey to come back. They were sitting between the model houses, examining them with mild interest while Noah tried to entertain Matthew by saying "feel how cold they are now" and putting his hands on the sides of Matthew's neck. 

Gansey led Ronan in slowly, like seeing his brothers could be traumatic again, like they hadn't visited him in the hospital or spent several nights at his side after Gansey left, bathing from the sink in the tiny bathroom attached to Ronan'sroom, getting ready for school and doing required assignments, or watching cartoons with him (more for Matthew's benefit). Matthew was more excited than Declan, who was more relieved to see his brother upright, though walking slowly through the place. Noah had mopped the floors and scratched all the peeling paint and horribly outdated wallpaper off when he was there alone and sprayed whatever air freshener he could find into Ronan's room, which then wafted out into the actual apartment, leaving it smelling like pine forests and cinnamon.

They ordered cheap takeout and talked about nothing serious until Declan brought up Glendower and Gansey went and dug out all his boxes and his journal from Europe. Adam came by later with his backpack and his bruised eye healing nicely. He sat on the end of Gansey's bed and started doing homework, looking up only when Ronan flopped down near him.

"You're on my book." Adam announced, kneeing Ronan's side.

"Why are you doing homework?"

"Because there's finals in three weeks and I need snow boots."

Ronan rolled over onto his back and folded his hands on his stomach while Adam tugged the textbook free. "It's not even winter." Ronan noted, casually watching Adam's hand fly down the page in calculation.

"Snow doesn't care what season it is. I need boots."

He knew better than to offer to get some for him. Adam needed to do things himself - to prove to everyone and to himself that he could. So Ronan said nothing.

Soon Matthew came over and cuddled into Ronan's side, both arms pressed together. Declan was listening to Gansey talk about one of his adventures in Europe, the kind that made Ronan realize all those months ago how lucky he was to know someone like Gansey. The kind that made Ronan once think that he loved Gansey more than just as a friend. Now, Ronan still got a little flustered when any mutual nudity happened, but, he suspected that would be true in any situation, not just because Gansey had incredible core muscles from the rowing team.

If Ronan was to have died like he should have (and Gansey would have thrown something at him if he could hear Ronan's thought process) Matthew would have been crushed. Declan would be too, but Declan was stronger. Declan would get over it. Matthew, not so much. Losing both parents and then a brother would be heartbreaking in any case, but Declan had a bigger network for recovery and controlled the checking account until they each turned 18.

Since the tattoo, Declan had been very quiet about Ronan's actions. When he got the call from the hospital that night, he immediately headed for his car. Blood transfusions and stitches and therapy was all Ronan needed and by the time he arrived, Ronan was awake with red eyes and a vicious scar in the making. Declan didn't ask why it happened or ask for any other explanation than the one Ronan gave. Lynches didn't talk like that to each other, especially not Declan and Ronan. Instead, Declan filled out the insurance forms and did the research on teen therapists and paid the remaining bills.

Matthew's fingers skimmed over Ronan's dark hair, almost an inch long now. He was against Ronan's chest, listening to the heartbeat, just fascinated by its life. As the sun fell behind the tree-line and because Gansey hadn't yet bothered with a lighting system more advanced than a small desk lamp, Declan whisked Matthew off back to campus. Adam closed his books not too much later and yawned.

"You could stay here," Ronan said quietly. Adam looked down at him, pursing his lips. "If you wanted."

"Doesn't matter what I want." Adam answered. A wrinkle appeared in his forehead, the same kind that Gansey got when he was overthinking. Ronan wanted to press it away with his thumb. "Can you drive?"

Ronan sat up and searched for his keys while Adam packed his backpack. He hadn't taken his wallet when he went wandering that night, but Gansey had brought it along in one of his care packages that were full of not-stiff pillow cases, long blankets, and underwear. Very useful things.

The BMW and the smell of Adam, oil and industrial dedication, were familiar and comforting. Ronan's stitches itched and burned but he left them alone while Adam directed him through town towards the trailer park. The radio was loud and Adam was tapping his thumb along with the beat on his thigh.

He'd never seen Adam's neighborhood and now he understood why. This was the poor part of Henrietta, where accents were thicker and beer was easy to find and kids often turned out just as rude as their parents. Yards were less grass and more dirt, and stray gravel from mock driveways was everywhere. The BMW bumped over the road, rattling and Ronan dared to slow down in concern for flying rocks chipping the charcoal paint job.

"You can let me out here." Adam said, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. They'd just turned off the main road and passed an overturned laundry basket that someone had turned into both a flower bed and a garbage can.

"No, where's your house?"

"I said this is fine." Adam unlocked his door and opened it a crack, instantly flooding the cab with lights and dinging noises.

Ronan's heart went into panic mode, but he slammed on the brakes. "What the fuck, Parrish?"

Adam climbed out, swinging his backpack on and pulling his bike out of the trunk. He walked back up to the passenger door where he'd left it open and peeked inside.

Ronan had his forehead on the wheel, his good hand straining around the shift. The lights were still on and the back of his neck was as red as a tomato, fading down into the black ink of his tattoo. He was swearing under his breath when he straightened up and slapped the radio off.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Fuck you." Ronan said. It was too angry, too hostile.

"You too." Adam replied hotly. There was a pause. "Will you be at school tomorrow?"

"No."

Adam grabbed the door handle. "I'll be at the shop until six. If you want notes."

"Fine."

Since Ronan dissolved into one-syllable words, Adam sensed the conversation was over. He slammed the door and waited until Ronan did a three-point turn and sped off the way they'd come. He mounted the bike and pedaled slowly down the few blocks to his yard. He bent over to pet the dogs that had followed him and kicked them away when they tried to sneak past his legs inside. Too riled to finish homework, Adam stepped out of his shoes and put his face into his too flat pillow and swore until he felt a little better.

Sleep wouldn't come. Not until Adam imagined Ronan's arm, counting the stitches. He wasn't to blame, though he felt guilty. If he hadn't been working so much, hadn't been studying his ass off, maybe he would have noticed the signs. Ronan was always so reckless, so confident, that Adam never worried about him. Had never expected to find out that he was just as fragile and breakable and mortal as the rest of them.

\- 

In an effort to keep Ronan safe and accessible, Gansey put his screwdriver skills to use and removed all of the doors in Monmouth Manufacturing except for the doors in and out of the building itself. Ronan swore at Gansey and Noah while they collected the screws and rusty hinges on the floor and leaned the now useless doors against the wall. 

There should have been more trust between them. Ronan wasn't suicidal. He just didn't have any defense when his death was imminent. The bird-nightmare thing had gotten away. And Ronan had started testing himself when he wasn't entirely sure if he was awake or sleeping. Noah was always there - like he always was. 

When they lay together at night, the three of them flat on Gansey's bed, Ronan in the middle because he radiated heat and winter was coming, they talked in low whispers, quiet as a breeze. Noah told Ronan how afraid he was, that he'd never been more afraid and never would be. Gansey told the story of his own death six years earlier, when he stepped on a nest and heard the words that changed his life.

"I didn't hear anything." Ronan said while the others held their breath. "I wasn't destined to live like you." He bumped his elbow into Gansey's.

"You are though." Gansey said.

"Don't bring that destiny bullshit into this." Ronan said, his voice echoing in the walls. "It was a matter of time." He dreamed of killer birds too long, it didn't take much more imagination to give them a few more deadly human qualities.

"Ronan," they both said at the same time. Noah got up on his elbows and Gansey sat fully up. Gansey put his hand flat on Ronan's stomach and Ronan bit the inside of his cheek. A month ago, Ronan would have blushed down to his toes. This hand was a restraint.

"Don't lie to me." Gansey began, the voice Ronan was weak for. "Why then?"

The words hurt more than Ronan expected them to. Not why did it happen, but why at that time. Blood rushed through his ears and he tried to sit up but Gansey's palm held him down.

His eyes felt wet though he couldn't remember feeling anything other than guilt. "I couldn't fight it." He exhaled shakily, when did he start crying? "I thought it was a dream." Niall would have killed him if Gansey used any of his wit to figure out what that meant. "I stopped fighting because I didn't matter. I was alone."

"Promise me." Gansey said, still stern, still in power, still shaking. "Promise me you won't do it again. You won't give up on yourself."

Ronan's neck hurt. His throat, his stomach, his heart. Noah's fingers curved around his cheek, cold and relieving. He was helpless. His arms were down by his sides, two of his friends over him with considerate expressions waiting for him to promise something that he couldn't guarantee. If he dreamed up another horror, he knew - more than anything else he'd ever known - that he wouldn't fight it. 

"There's nothing in me." Ronan hadn't meant to say the words. Everything he did was a reaction. Everything that made decisive action worth it had withered since Niall. He had no guidance, no goals, no aspirations. College wasn't going to happen. He wasn't prepared for a job. He had no home. 

He wasn't invested enough in Glendower. He wasn't promised another chance at life. Though by some miracle he was still here, still breathing. Who did he owe for that? Noah for finding him? Gansey for calling the search? Declan for paying the bills? Adam for still being his friend? He shouldn't have been so short-tempered with him in the car. Gansey would have told him to apologize and Adam would have accepted. That meant something, didn't it? A second chance?

"But I promise." Ronan whispered, as Gansey's hand drifted down to Ronan's wrist, his fingers running over the bumpy sutures. Ronan turned his palm upward and Gansey dropped his hand into Ronan's. "It won't happen again."

-


	20. Chapter 20

Ronan's left hand was too weak to knit. He had very little control over the muscles and less feeling in them and the few stitches he tried to make with the scraps of yarn he had laying around were uneven and too loose and Noah laughed as he poked his fingers through the holes. Ronan stabbed the needles in Noah's general direction and then dropped them on his bed. 

He could feel his pulse, muted from his fingertips to his shoulder. It had been a week and Ronan's stitches were taken out and when he got too deep in his own head contemplating his own worth, Noah appeared with his wireless headphones and put them around Ronan's neck. By a single thought, because that was how Ronan dreamed them up a year ago, music beat out of the speakers and settled Ronan more than anything else. Gansey often found him sitting perfectly still, listening to music, not moving a voluntary muscle for hours at a time.

"It's unsettling." Gansey noted to Adam when they arrived after school. "I swear he's turning to stone."

"That sounds unreasonable." Adam said, adjusting his backpack.

They both paused. Monmouth was eerily still but there was a thrashing sound coming from Ronan's open doorframe. Gansey hadn't dictated that the doors be reinstalled yet. A book, or something like it, flew across the empty room, followed by a thump, from something louder than a simple book, which shook the floor and knocked some of the smaller items off Gansey's desk.

Inside Ronan's room, Noah was sitting cross legged on the bed, holding onto his ankles wearing a wide smile and one of Ronan's ripped t-shirts that was loose over his shoulders and chest. There was a pile of folded clothes on his bed, nearly falling over. His desk was clear and its contents were thrown around the room. The dresser Ronan got at a garage sale was tipped over and its drawers falling out of their sockets.

Ronan himself was dancing. Or violently nodding his head and flailing his arms and swinging his hips in time to the electronic bass loud enough through his headphones to make Ronan deaf and Gansey cringe. He tossed a sweater at Noah's head and spun around, snapping his fingers, mouthing words that didn't belong in the song, insulting Noah and his hair and his skateboard in a poor imitation of rap. At the end, he slipped out of his shirt and threw it in a pile of clothes that may have been dirty, but who could tell?

The tattoo, black and sharper than Gansey remembered, rippled with his skin like it was alive. Christian crosses, Celtic knots, blades of grass or metal spiking through flowers and curled Latin words that Gansey didn't recognize. Vines in a loose arced triangle in mirror images across his spine, tree roots fading into wisps and disappearing below the band of his striped black boxers. Gansey never studied the drawing before but only now did he notice the shape of a giant bird in the design, wings stretched over Ronan's shoulder blades, its beak pointing up towards his neck. If that wasn't some kind of symbolism, Gansey didn't know what was. Ronan hated birds.

When Adam cleared his throat looking away from Ronan's hips, Ronan stopped the music and froze. Noah flopped over, cackling into his hands.

Gansey and Adam stared and Ronan glared at them. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Good day today, huh?" Gansey's eyebrows kept rising, elegant arches that were not as threatening as they might have been on Adam's forehead.

"Shut up." Ronan growled, pleased. The louder he played music and the less he thought, the better he felt. And today, the music was very loud, thoughts were dim, and Ronan felt good.

Adam rubbed his thumb over his lips and nudged his toes off a checker board on the floor he hadn't realized he was standing on. "We were gonna study for our Latin test."

"Because you two are shitty at it." Ronan nodded. Noah had stopped his ridiculous laughter and smothered his remaining giggles. "I haven't been in class. I can't fucking help you."

"We were planning on going to the library. You could catch up on some assignments there. If you put some clothes on."

"I have clothes on." Ronan gestured to his boxers. "Not my fault that people can't handle partial nudity."

"No one wants to see your dick, Ronan." Noah chuckled, burying his face into a pillow. 

"Not my fault people want to pretend like genitals don't exist."

"Lynch," Adam chided.

"I'm getting dressed. Calm down."

For the first time in nearly two weeks, Ronan put on his backpack and actively tried to do schoolwork. He brought his headphones and kept the volume of the piano and harp concertos he was listening to low because Adam kicked him when it was too loud. Since he had much more to do, Ronan spread out every textbook he had, or had borrowed from Gansey because he hadn't been to his locker in more than a week, and started copying Adam's notes.

The material was familiar since Adam had read the notes to him while still in the hospital and Gansey and Noah got into a heated debate about the founding fathers that ending with Noah shouting, "At least I never had an affair" and leaving. They were actually discussing calligraphy and whether or not there were American accents back then. Gansey was so confused by Noah's outburst that he had read the entire chapter out loud to Ronan. The next day Noah only spoke in an English accent, saying he didn't care for the snobby white boys from the American colony. Ronan slapped the back of his head and Noah said he especially didn't care for assholes by the name of Ronan Lynch.

After three hours, Gansey had disappeared to chat with a librarian about something, the echo of his voice from the desk two floors down was still very clearly Gansey the good scholar on the quest for Glendower. Adam was no longer trying to translate whatever text he was looking at but taking a short break and doodling in the margin of his notebook. His hair was recently cut, unevenly standing in tufts, his face hollow with fatigue, eyes dropping closed for just a second.

Ronan watched Adam's eyelashes, counting the freckles on his eyelids, wondering if Adam had ever tried to count his freckles. Hundreds on his face and neck alone. Thousands of pale dots just under his skin.

Ronan adjusted in his seat because he was not going to start wondering if Adam had freckles everywhere on his body or only where the sun had touched. Hunching over and staring down a diagram of factoring polynomials, Adam's shoe lifted up and settled against Ronan's knee, braced against the edge of the chair. Ronan looked up. Adam was back to reading, slipping into a less rigid posture, comfortably running a fingertip over a small scar on his temple.

The table Gansey picked was entirely too small. Too close. Ronan shouldn't have been able to see the salt outlines on the toe of Adam's shoe or smell his socks. His pulse shouldn't have exploded at such a simple gesture.

Concentrating was getting difficult. Because it was getting dark and Ronan knew well that there was a nightmare bird thing still after his blood. 

Noah had been staying with him at night, gently prying the weapons Ronan dreamt out of his hands and dropping them into the dumpster across the street while Ronan's mind drifted back into his body. That only happened when Ronan allowed himself to sleep. When he didn't, he and Gansey sat among the Henrietta model and speculated about Glendower and Adam and ate junk food and recalled good memories of when they lived together at the Barns. Often, Ronan got very quiet while Gansey told his favorite stories. Adam would have liked the Barns. 

"You haven't touched your page in almost ten minutes." Adam commented dryly. "Are you done? I'll look it over if you want."

"It's wrong." Ronan said, but he still handed over his assignment. "And my hand hurts."

Adam's eyes scanned over the lines, doing mental calculations. He made a few marks with his pencil and scribbled some notes, crossing lines out, boxing answers.

"I could tutor you." Adam suggested, handing the paper back.

"That bad, huh?" Ronan sighed. "I'd pay you."

"No." Adam said, too loud. He looked around, sheepishly ducking his head at the librarian who was glaring in their direction. He whispered back, "I won't let you."

Ronan stuck his work in a folder and started stacking his books. "Why not? Declan is a tutor and he gets paid for it. Hell, I'm pretty sure he's banged half the guys he helps, and girls at the public school, so added bonus."

Adam's foot retreated and he too started putting his things away. One strap of his backpack was fraying on the edges, like the end of his sleeves. "I don't have time to go through the school to tutor. The only people who need tutoring are Kavinsky's gang and assholes who don't pay attention, so why would they listen to me?" He put his books away in jerky movements, getting agitated. "And I have no interest in banging anyone in those categories."

"What does that make me, as a person who needs tutoring?" Ronan lifted an eyebrow to cover his disappointment. He wasn't an idiot. Adam wasn't interested in him.

The thread of hope held on though, because Adam had a good enough sense to look uncomfortable and embarrassed. He tapped his fingers on his last notebook before putting in his bag. The tops of his ears flushed and he flexed his jaw. "You're an asshole."

"Guilty." Ronan smirked. He bumped fists with Gansey, who was returning with a thick book under his arm. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose. Adam, do you need a ride?"

Adam glanced at Ronan and then to Gansey. "No, I'll take off from here." He stood up and swung on his bag. "I shouldn't be too busy tomorrow," he said to Ronan. "You should come by."

"Goodness, am I invited?" Gansey asked, sounding both confused and a little hurt. 

"Of course you are." Adam said. "I was just gonna help him catch up."

Gansey's eyes sparkled and he clapped a hand onto Adam's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "That's a great idea, Parrish." 

If it was possible for Gansey to be enamored more so than he already was with his impossible friends, he would be. Sometimes when Gansey grinned at Ronan across Monmouth or across the seat in the car or from his side when Noah insisted they collectively share body heat, Ronan resisted. Gansey was too good to him. No one, except maybe Matthew, could look at Ronan and make him feel like he deserved to be admired. Gansey was looking like that at Adam right then.

Adam probably needed that winning smile more than Ronan. Though aside from the black eye last week, he'd been relatively healthy, but it was unlikely to last. Robert Parrish's moods were not easy to predict. And since Ronan had technically caused that last injury, Adam shouldn't have been talking to him at all.

Ronan watched Adam take a heaving breath in the parking lot before climbing on his bike and heading off. The night was cool and dark and if Ronan would stop thinking that the shadow in the backseat was someone or something waiting for the right moment to strike, he might have enjoyed it. His paranoia knew no bounds and he spent the entire car ride home fingering the folded knife in his pocket, just in case.

At Monmouth, Noah was playing darts with himself on the first floor. "There's a leak in the shower." He said by way of greeting. 

Something was off about Noah. He seemed… flat. The permanent bruise on his cheek just a swipe of ink, his Aglionby uniform as wrinkled as ever but two dimensional. If he turned sideways, Ronan thought he might blow away.

They boys trekked up the stairs and Gansey went to the bathroom to inspect the damage. The entire room was flooded, half an inch of standing water and spreading out toward the main room, nearly to Gansey's bed. The faucet was on, gushing water into the already full bathtub, spilling over the sides, the drain partly plugged by a handful of small pebbles. Gansey, stunned, only stared with his lips parted. 

"Fuck, Noah," Ronan said, shoving Gansey to the side. He stepped through the ice cold water to turn the faucet off and pick out the stones. 

The bathtub drained faster and faster until it was empty. At least Noah had done a load of towels while they were gone. Ronan dug them out of the dryer and dropped them onto the floor, swearing to himself and then at Gansey to not just stand there like an idiot.

Gansey snapped back into a more recognizable always in control always has a plan persona and went to find a mop he knew he'd seen in a closet somewhere. While he searched, Noah peeked through the doorway and mumbled something into his hand.

"What was that?" Ronan demanded, using an already soaked towel to direct the water away from the door. He dropped pieces of dirty clothes on the puddle to soak more up. They would be washed anyway. None of them actively did laundry on a regular basis.

Noah took a grieving breath, his lip trembling. "I said," he paused, his hand coming back over his mouth. "I couldn't turn it off."

"Why the fuck not?" Ronan growled. "It's not that fucking hard. You've done it a million fucking times."

Ronan placed another towel at the foot of the fridge and picked up all the ruined boxes of cereal and cardboard containers of beer and 12 packs of soda. Some of the bags of chips half eaten were safe, but others had dissolved into a soggy slop that Ronan wouldn't be desperate to eat. 

"There was something here." Noah said in a faraway voice. His hand crept down around his neck, tugging at his collar. "I got scared,"

Gansey returned with a mop and a bucket and started in the main room before any more of his Henrietta model was ruined. Cardboard was tough, but some of the houses on the edge of the town were fallen over, the pieces of cereal boxes falling apart. 

"That doesn't explain the rocks. Or why you didn't bother cleaning it up. There are rules to sharing a bathroom, Noah." He shook his head when Noah had the audacity to look offended.

"I can't help it, I'm weak today."

"You weren't before we left."

Noah covered his mouth and leaned his head against the frame. From the angle Ronan was crouching at, Noah looked shorter than he should be, had they both been standing at full height. But his posture was slumped and boneless. 

"I'm dying." He whispered.

"What?"

"I'm dead."

"Gansey and I aren't gonna kill you, chill the fuck out." Ronan tried to lighten up his tone but it was incredibly difficult with his current level of frustration.

"No," Noah said. "I am dead."

Ronan scoffed and traded out the sopping mess of clothes. "Stop fucking saying that." He dropped an armful of wet clothes and a few of the towels into the washer, starting it with a rough pour of the soap, dropping the lid with a metallic echo that made Noah flinch. He dug out dry towels from under the sink and spread them out on the floor.

"Why won't you listen?" Noah begged, his entire form becoming like the water that was soaking up through his pants to his ankles. His shoulders heaved like he was crying but he was eerily without expression.

"Because it's fucking insane. Next time just turn the fucking handle or call a plumber, Jesus." Ronan squatted down, picking up more pebbles off the floor. He put them all on the edge of the sink where Noah counted them.

"I'm sorry."

Ronan sighed through his nose. "No permanent damage."

Noah's eyes lifted towards the ceiling. His right hand wrapped around his left ear, his fingers drifted into his pale hair. He took another breath, the kind that made his whole body expand and retract. "You should make Adam a scarf. For Christmas."

It wasn't exactly what Ronan wanted to hear. But Noah had learned his lesson. Maybe. Ronan blinked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I bet he'd like that."

-


	21. Chapter 21

"This was a mistake." Ronan exhaled. The parking lot of Aglionby was covered in a half a foot of snow and barely shoveled. He tugged on a blue knit hat Aurora made for Declan years ago that Ronan had stolen because at the time he didn't care for his own green hat and he couldn't steal from Matthew. 

Noah punched Ronan reassuringly on the shoulder and got out of the car.

Everyone noticed Ronan immediately but no one approached him. Rumors spread like rain of his absence - that he'd gotten into a fight and someone actually killed him, that he was in jail, that he was in a car crash, that he overdosed, that he was studying abroad, that he was sent to military school, that he killed himself. 

The night before, Gansey insisted they practice how Ronan might react to confrontation about his two-week nonattendance. Gansey promised he didn't tell anyone after a lingering look at the puckered skin at Ronan's wrist. It was still a vibrant pink and blistered and very difficult to look away from. Despite his love of sleeveless shirts, he'd started wearing long sleeves to stop himself from staring at his scars and sinking into a depressing thought experiment.

Ronan shot dirty looks at acquaintances who nearly greeted him like nothing had happened. The entire tennis team had slipped half-hearted get well soon cards into his locker which fell onto the ground when Ronan opened it. He kicked them away and left them. Gansey was coming late and Adam should have been around but he wasn't.

All the bodies crowded the hall, moving around, clutching books, stepping out of his way when he headed for his class. Kavinsky was gone. His friends weren't there either, only Swan and another football player Ronan had never seen before and didn't care to.

"Ronan Lynch. Missed you." Swan winked across the room, running his tongue over his teeth.

Ronan didn't respond.

"K's gonna be sorry he skipped. What happened to you?"

"A bird."

"This wouldn't happen to be the same kind of bird that ruined K's last party would it? Big thing, feathers and shit?"

Ronan turned a curious eyebrow. "Like a fucking nightmare."

"That's one way to put it. Tried to attack K but he had his gun. Made me bury the fucker."

"Damn." Ronan said. He dug his phone out, finding it with an almost dead battery, and sent a brief text. He wasn't thrilled about reaching out to Kavinsky, especially since he would have to respond, but Ronan had to know. 

What kind of bird fucked your party

And then Adam arrived with a grin. He slapped a dry hand on Ronan's desk, leaving behind a single green mint leaf, like the ones Gansey chewed when he was nervous. He dropped into his seat and turned around.

"What is this, Parrish?"

"Did you know that Gansey has a live plant in his locker?" 

Ronan chuckled and picked up the leaf, bringing it close to his nose. "He has one outside Monmouth on the side stairs. And a ridiculous amount of peppermint gum in one of his desk drawers."

Adam was still half laughing, accepting when Ronan tore the leaf in half and gave it to him. They both stuck it in their mouths, Ronan's gaze lingering a fraction too long on Adam's lips, before Gansey entered, followed by the rest of the class. As soon as he sat down in front of Adam, the bell rang.

School was exactly as Ronan expected it to be. A waste of time. Too many people looking at him. Even his teacher was watching him a little too closely, trying to figure which of the rumors were plausible.

The sweater he was wearing covered his wrist quite nicely. Though sometimes, when Adam peeked back over his own shoulder he would kick the leg of Ronan's desk and Ronan would jerk back to attention and stop counting the lines.

His phone buzzed on his leg. A text. From Kavinksy.

A fucking nightmare. One of yours. Your secret's safe with me princess.

Ronan couldn't breathe. Kavinsky knew. The only secret he'd ever had to keep and he failed. Kavinsky knew.

He shifted and dropped his phone into his bag. Putting his head down on his desk, he cursed Kavinsky with every rotten phrase he knew. How did he know? How the fucking fuck did he know?

But if he truly knew, that also meant he hadn't told anyone. It was reasons like this why Ronan hated trusting other people. Kavinsky would have this over his head for as long as he lived. Ronan counted backwards until he was once again distracted by the curve of Adam's back, his bony elbows, a faded bruise on his inner arm.

Adam's shoulders turned a little in his chair, an act that would have been seen as boredom but was subtly concern. He leaned his back against the wall, draping one arm over the edge of Ronan's desk, casually tapping his fingers on the blank notebook, the other hand still taking notes. The other students weren't bothered by such an act as they were taking notes or playing on their phones over the drone of their teacher. 

The back of Adam's hand was freckled and wrinkled with flakes of dry skin. Ronan poked his pen at Adam's forearm. Adam didn't move and neither did Ronan. Ronan had looked at Adam's ID in his bare wallet that was duct taped together while Adam was working once and discovered that Adam was a few months older than himself, a fact that Ronan had never considered before. He didn't even know when Gansey's birthday was. For being seventeen, Adam had the hands of a working man, calloused and wide and Ronan wanted nothing more at that moment to hold them in his own.

Instead, with his pen, he wrote across Adam's arm "Adam loves Dick" with a wicked smile. Adam read it and slapped him an inconspicuously as possible. Ronan reached for Adam's arm again and amended his message: "Adam loves Dick Gansey III"

Adam rolled his eyes and turned back around. Ronan, because he couldn't bear to keep his hands idle, traced letters onto Adam's back with his index finger. He spelled out meaningless phrases in loopy letters - IMBORED - HELPME - URALOSER - until Adam threw back his arm and the teacher cast them a pointed look.

Ronan wrote out SORRY and then NOT.

-

Noah wanted to go sledding. Gansey wanted to go looking for Glendower. Adam wanted to be anywhere but working. Ronan had a load of homework to do. Finals were coming within weeks and everyone was stressing with review and study guides. Therapy dogs were roaming around campus at all waking hours because panic attacks were more common in the last month of the semester. Declan had secured a job or an internship or something prestigious and political for the summer since he would be graduating in May, but he hadn't bothered to check in on Ronan since his release from the hospital outside of their Sunday Mass. 

Adam fixed cars and Ronan read his assignments in relative quiet. Sometimes Adam let a tool slip from his hand and Ronan would look up to find Adam's ass in the air and he would instantly turn back to his reading, fighting a blush. He didn't know when he started finding everything Adam did so alluring. He didn't know how much it was a problem until Gansey couldn't even bring up Adam's name without Ronan's imagination running wild. Thank God he hadn't been sleeping.

"What's wrong with this one?" Ronan asked, putting down his binder.

"Dead battery. You want any help with that?" He nodded his head to the math book on the workbench which Ronan had been purposefully avoiding.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Ronan grumbled as Adam flipped open the book and sat down right next to him, their knees touching.

"Yeah. But I do get off early. Gansey said he'd be over soon. You missed a lot of graphing and integration."

"I know how to draw a fucking line, Parrish."

"Can you draw sine curves without a calculator? Or polynomials?"

"If you'd shut up I could."

Adam huffed. "If you're going to be an ass about it, I'm not gonna help you."

"Then don't help me. I've got it."

"Fine." He got up and went back to the car.

Ronan want to hit something. But he couldn't. 

Gansey announced his and Noah's presence with the thundering engine of the Pig and a waft of mint and a gust of snow let in by the open door. Gansey had a brown paper sack in his arm and his other hand holding a jacket for Noah.

"Merry Christmas!" Noah shouted, throwing himself at Ronan and then Adam.

"I thought we were going to do this after finals," Ronan said when Gansey distributed three identical bags between his three friends.

Adam's face was red and hot and his hands were casually in his pockets. He didn't have the same bank account the others did and he knew it and they knew it and Ronan thought it might be awkward. But Adam had to have known this was going to happen.

Only yesterday, Ronan had finished Noah's sweater and started Adam's scarf and he'd gotten Gansey a better EMF reader and an ancient-looking book about Welsh legends and a big pot for his mint plant because it would die quite soon if he didn't replant it in front of a window. He couldn't sleep and by the time Gansey had finished his speech about how much he loved his friends because he was thinking about how much Adam was working and how no matter what Ronan did he was going to do something great with his life, the mint plant was transferred and probably quite content with Monmouth's windows. Ronan's wrist was hurting but his heart was full of …something he couldn't name and he stayed up the rest of the night until he had a scarf as long as he was tall. Noah claimed it was perfect.

Perfect didn't look like the word Adam would have chosen when Noah pulled it out of the bag and draped it over Adam's shoulders. Adam's hands trailed down the loose but even pattern, his lips parted more in shock than anything else. He stood there for only a moment before he finally, finally, looked to Ronan.

"Thank you. But we agreed no gifts."

"You said you needed winter gear. I happen to know how to knit."

Adam blushed a little and then he reached toward his toolbox, pulling out a smaller box within. Ronan. From Adam. "That said, I got you something too."

"You little shit." Ronan said, lifting the lid.

Inside were two leather straps with loose ends to tie together.

"Did you get me a fucking friendship bracelet? Are we friends, Parrish?"

"Shut up, Lynch." He paused. He came close and hesitantly tied the bracelets around Ronan's left wrist, over his scars.

Ronan's head bowed and he stared at Adam's greasy hands holding his. "Is it because of these?" He draw a line over his arm where his skin was ugly and gashed.

"You look at them a lot." Adam said. "And when you do, you get depressed. So when you see these instead, I want you to think about me." At his own words, Adam's ears flushed, but his chin was set.

"In… what way?"

"Don't be difficult." Adam rolled his eyes and let go. 

Ronan stared at his bracelets for a long moment. When he looked up, Adam was putting on his boots (he'd gotten a used pair only days before) and the crew sweater Gansey had given him - all of them, Ronan realized as he peeked in the bag Gansey passed around. Noah put on his sweater from Ronan and a pair of Gansey's old boots.

"What are we doing?"

"My Christmas present to Adam, and Adam's to me. We're going hiking." Gansey announced, putting his hands on his hips. 

Ronan lifted an eyebrow. "In the snow? Glendower probably won't be so kind if we wake him up in winter."

"He'll be much more kind if we had a walking furnace and wait, we do." Noah said, clapping. "Let's go."

While Ronan tugged on his own crew sweater and a hat, Adam put on his scarf.

The woods were pristine and glistening with fresh snow, until four boys stomped through leaving a path so obvious they'd be saved within minutes if they'd gotten lost. Trees dropped their last leaves and the wind swirled them overhead. Gray clouds shadowed them but couldn't shade their smiles and their laughter.

Birds fluttered overhead and the sound of the nearby highway soon faded until they should have been utterly lost if Gansey hadn't whipped out a map. The process of searching for Glendower too often involved wandering through the woods and finding unusual out-of-place things that could somehow be connected back to a time seven hundred years ago. It was slow work and hard on the legs some days, but Ronan could not argue with being outdoors in air that could stretch his lungs. 

Noah threw the first snowball. It hit Gansey square in the back. Adam laughed, unexpectedly and musical, and when Gansey retaliated, he missed by a long shot and nearly grazed Ronan. This began a snowball fight, the boys running between the trees, practicing their lack of baseball skills because none of them were ever involved in baseball. Noah dumped a handful of snow down Ronan's back and ran off, climbing a tree with pockets of snow for an aerial attack.

Adam managed to hit Noah's knee from an impressive distance and was now tracking down Gansey who had disappeared. Ronan gave up on Noah once he was hit in the face and decided to build a fort instead. 

He found a small clearing, looking up just as Gansey managed to hit Adam in the chest with a puff of powdered snow. Adam ran after Gansey while Noah laughed from up above.

Ronan crouched behind his wall and launched a snowball toward Gansey, landing just short at his feet. Both Adam and Gansey saw Ronan's defense, they both exchanged a look and started building an arsenal. 

He heard their feet approach. But there was no attack.

Looking up at them, they were looking at something behind him. Their cheeks were flushed with cold, noses running, Adam's freckles blurring together. Ronan turned around.

It was a buck. Or an elk. Cervus Canadensis.

The creature was long and muscular, its breath steaming from its wet nostrils. Its antlers were sharp looking, white as bone, its eyes black and empty. The brown of its fur was dark around its neck, tangled with burrs.

"Ronan," Adam breathed. "Don't move."

Ronan stayed low while the elk bobbed its head. It stomped a hoof. When sheep did that, it meant to back off. Ronan had been headbutted by sheep on several occasions, and he wasn't keen on repeating that with a twelve-pointed antler set.

"Should we scare it off?" Gansey asked because he was in shock and didn't know what to do. He swallowed hard, taking a step toward Ronan.

"No, don't scare it." Adam said.

Ronan held out his hand. He knew that if this was a bear, he should be trying to make himself bigger and louder. But this elk didn't seem particularly hostile. He slowly unbent to his full height. Despite a reputation to maintain, Ronan allowed himself a small moment of self-pity just in case the bull decided to impale him. 

"Why isn't it moving?" Ronan mumbled.

Noah was at his side suddenly, or already, Ronan didn't see him appear in the corner of his eye until Noah moved toward the creature and laid a hand on its nose. While the elk made a low sound, Noah swept his arm out with a pointed shout.

The elk swung its head around and walked off.

"Noah, what the fuck?"

Noah blinked and smacked Ronan with a snowball he'd been hiding. "I'm getting tired of you saying that." He turned up his nose and marched back toward Gansey like a child.

Ronan grabbed his arm. "Noah, since when the fuck are you the fucking animal whisperer?"

"I like zoos?"

Gansey set his arm around Ronan's back and pulled Adam in so they were all hugged together. Ronan wriggled free, but they wanted his body heat. "I love winter." Gansey said, sighing in relief. "This kind of stuff doesn't happen in the summer."

"Gansey," Adam said, "We don't even know what just happened."

"Magic." Gansey nodded like that was the only acceptable answer. "Let's go. Excelsior."

-


	22. Chapter 22

Ronan's dreams had taken on a lighter tone once he got through his finals. He refused to sleep without some kind of alcoholic assistance, which Gansey only allowed because Ronan promised not to get drunk. His dreams involved forests without killer birds, with Adam at the mechanic's, with Noah at an elk sanctuary, with Gansey at a tomb labeled Owain. He woke with handfuls of useless things.

Monmouth was snowed in more days over the break than not. Ronan had to kick open the side door and shovel down the icy stairs for Sunday Mass when a snow plow scraped the parking lot to its rocky concrete and piled all the snow in front of the main door. Adam wasn't around a lot since no school meant that he could pick up many more shifts during the day. 

Sometimes, Ronan dreamed about kissing Adam. He dreamed of kissing Adam's beautiful hands, his shoulder, his neck, his mouth. In his dreams, Adam permitted this, something Ronan was sure real Adam would not.

Rarely, Ronan would wake with grease on his own hands, on his own neck where he allowed himself to be touched, the smell intoxicating and dangerous and wrong. But Adam was all those things and intelligent and hardworking, working far too much, and independent. He'd made it clear that he didn't need Gansey's charity and, though it had never been said in so many words, he didn't need Ronan's either.

The leather bracelets, he confessed later were from the trailer factory, his other job. He said the box was supposed to be delivered for a boyscout troop for them to stamp and personalize since the straps themselves were smooth and untouched. But his boss had given it to Adam, the youngest worker, and told him to give them to his brothers and sisters. Adam, not having any brothers or sisters, kept them under his bed.

Ronan liked them. Adam tied them loose enough to spin around his wrist, the ties long enough to tug when Ronan needed something to do with his hands. When he got down about his value, he remembered Adam. Sometimes he called Adam if Adam was on break, sometimes he dreamt Adam a clean shirt, sometimes he punched the punching bag until he was bruised and sore because Adam would never like him back - not in the same way Ronan liked him.

Spring semester started, the boys had new schedules and different classes and tennis practice was starting. The team had voted (Ronan had skipped that particular day) to have afternoon practices and self-guided weight lifting. Noah, after reading the announcement, jumped into Ronan's arms and demanded he be used as a weight. Ronan dropped him.

Gansey was elected crew captain for the second year in a row. He had gotten a giant calendar for the new year and hooked it onto the wall above his desk, insisting that Ronan put up his schedule in a green marker, Noah put his in purple, and Gansey would put his in orange so they could all keep track of each other. Ronan groaned through it on a sleepless night, looking up every possible tennis match and practice while Noah lost interest entirely and started doodling in the squares.

Once a week, after the school year became routine, Ronan would go to the garage on his tennis-free day to be with Adam for a while. He'd copy down Adam's schedule for the week and transfer it to the calendar. While snow melted and shorts season started, Gansey got out his polos in the afternoon. Ronan dreamt about Adam in shorts and sometimes, pulling him out of those shorts. He felt guilty about waking up aroused felt guilty for working himself over until his breath caught, his body tensing and releasing in the most satisfying way and said nothing.

He didn't speak to Kavinsky. He couldn't trust himself to. On restless nights, Ronan would drive the BMW around the streets, watching parties disband, occasionally meeting Skov or Swan or K himself for a little race. Just for the thrill. They didn't speak and when Kavinsky texted his taunts, Ronan deleted the messages before reading them.

Declan dropped by on occasion with a new girl on his arm every time, as if that would cover the memories of him and Kavinsky. The thought still made Ronan want to gag. But the girls were pretty and dumb and gone by the end of the week once Declan had his way. As a rule, Ronan didn't not care to think about where Declan's genitals were going, until one of the temporary girlfriends came along with the brothers to a Sunday Mass. There were several arguments about setting a good example for Matthew until, once Ronan nearly shattered the left side of Declan's jaw in the church parking lot, just out of sight of the priest and the good families of the parish, Declan agreed he'd make sure Matthew learn from his behavior. 

Aurora's condition still hadn't changed, and Niall was still very dead.

School was as tough as ever, still boring. Though Adam and Gansey were in the majority of his classes, he did have English without them. He often skipped in favor of sitting outside on the hood of his car or in the shade of the oak trees for an hour until tennis practice because English was his last class of the day. Adam and Gansey were in the college-level class above him.

"Lynch, I found something."

Gansey was out of breath and Adam was coming to a stop behind him like they'd run from the classrooms as soon as the final bell rang.

"St. Mark's." God, his smile was as contagious as the plague.

"What's that?"

"St. Mark's. It's the ley lines. I was researching churches and found a tradition on St. Mark's Eve, April 24th . People in England sat outside and watched spirits pass. But they could only travel on the ley lines."

Ronan glanced at Adam, who was looking at his fingernails. "What do we do about that?"

"On the 24th, we should go find a church and sit outside."

"And do what? Parrish, are you here for this?"

Adam's eyes squinted in the sun. A single shoulder shrugged. "I've got work. But I'll probably be sleeping. Sorry Gansey."

Gansey backpedaled. "Oh no, don't be sorry. Sleep is important at our age."

"You're one to fucking talk." Ronan said under his breath. The last week they'd both been unable to sleep and Noah had tried to teach Gansey a few guitar chords that ended with Ronan putting on his headphones and lying on Gansey's bed for six hours until it was a reasonable time to start in on a punching bag.

"Anyway, the 24th is next week."

"Convenient." Ronan slipped off the hood of the BMW and got his bag of workout clothes from the backseat. He slung it over his shoulder. "Sorry, pal, but I'm gonna pass."

Gansey looked offended. "What could you possibly be doing?"

"Literally anything else." He snarled, walking away.

"You're a shit, Ronan Lynch." Adam said.

Ronan paused and almost turned around. "You already knew that."

-

"I thought you had work." Ronan said when he opened the door for Adam. He was in cargo pants and a gray t-shirt and his face was worn but his eyes were bright.

"I did. Noah called."

Ronan spun around. Noah was scooting away on a small dolly he'd found outside. There was a collection of them half buried in dirt and all afternoon he and Noah had been racing the length of the first floor.

"I just had a genius idea but we need rope." Noah said, rolling over.

Gansey, surprisingly, had a length of rope in one of his boxes behind a stack of books. He permitted Noah's idea on the condition they stay away from the giant hill down the block.

Noah's idea involved the BMW, tying dolly to newly obtained rope and driving around town, dragging friends along behind. Adam wasn't very good with a stick shift so Ronan drove first, fast enough that Adam's hair was tangled by wind after only a few blocks. Adam clutched the ropes which laced through the open windows and let himself enjoy the ride, hooting when Ronan did, until he took a too sharp turn too fast and Adam flew off the dolly.

The brakes squealed and Ronan ran out. Adam was panting but grinning on the concrete. "Damn," he poked his scraped wrists. "Have Noah drive."

"I don’t trust him with this car."

"Lynch, let him drive." Adam got up and wiped his hands on his pants. He would have scabs.

Ronan couldn't be boring, and decided to try standing so long as Noah promised to keep his speed under forty (he didn't know what a reasonable number was) and didn't kill the engine. Exactly half a block later, Ronan was on his knees, his elbows scraped raw. He demanded another turn, but sitting down this time.

For hours, they traded seats, Noah swearing when Ronan slammed on the brakes and Noah nearly crashed into the BMW's bumper. Adam tried to drive once with Ronan in the passenger seat, providing simple but altogether useless instruction. Ronan shoved Adam's shoulder and told him to switch and Adam didn't try driving again.

Many minor injuries later, when they returned to Monmouth, Adam packed up his backpack, homework forgotten but Ronan had never seen him so relaxed. He wanted Adam to stay but it was unreasonable. Adam couldn't stay late. He could never stay over. He would never sacrifice a shift for them.

That was okay, but it was frustrating. If he would just accept one time when Gansey offered to cover his portion of a bill they'd shared, it would not be the end of the world. The last time he'd said so out loud, he and Adam didn't speak for a week and it happened to coincide with Aglionby's spring break. Ronan was miserable the entire week, asking Gansey if he could build something with cereal boxes only to stomp on it and rip it apart moments later. So Ronan didn't mention money to Adam.

Adam took off on his bike, after Gansey insisted they all rinse their wounds with disinfectant because infections are dangerous, Ronan. 

The night of April 24th, Gansey loaded his backpack with a flashlight and a notebook and a handheld recorder. He didn't quite know what to expect from the night of St. Mark's Eve and Ronan wasn't so enthusiastic about sitting outside all night. The church he'd picked was a work of modern architecture, the parking lot suggesting a stadium rather than a place of worship. Gansey drove them past it once and Ronan said if he was a ghost, that's where he would hang out, and Noah agreed. Ronan then said would not be in attendance.

The night of April 24th, Noah, who had been anxiously peering up into the clear sky through Gansey's telescope, wandered off a few minutes after Gansey left and didn't explain because Ronan didn't ask.

The night of April 24th, Ronan received a blowjob from Adam Parrish. In his dreams, of course. He managed to drift off in his stack of pillows, headphones around his neck. He woke with his hand down his pants and Adam's name on his lips only an hour later and had resolved to smother his crush before it got out of control.

Things were going fine for the next day, even when Gansey called for help on the side of the highway, nothing on the recording but "Gansey. That's all there is."

Things started going not fine when he met Blue Sargent. Not true, he supposed. Things were going bad in the hour before he had even noticed her existence because Adam Parrish would not stop looking at her across the diner. It was as obvious as ever that Adam was smitten and Ronan could only hope that he didn't look as desperate when he longed for Adam. 

The girl was short and had uneven dark hair and too many clips in it. Their own waitress was flirty and wore a smile too bright for the environment. Cialina was her name. And she wasn't an entirely shit waitress.

Things were still going not fine even when Gansey had taken it upon himself to ask the other one, the one with spiky hair, if she might be interested in Adam. Adam begged him not to and Gansey waved him off with an indignant reply.

"She's not gonna come over here," Adam said.

"Maybe you'll get lucky."

"I've never been lucky once in my life."

Ronan quirked an eyebrow and Noah giggled quietly. "Are you telling me you're a virgin?"

"Shut up." Adam said, his ears turning pink even in the crappy lighting. "So are you."

From across the room, even Ronan could hear the girl say with attitude, "I am not a prostitute,"

And Ronan smirked across the table at Adam. He made his hand into a plane and slapped it down on the table with explosion sound effects. "There go your chances." He tried hard not to sound pleased.

But the thing was, it didn't ruin Adam's chances. Blue Sargent would not leave and once he arrived at her house for the psychic meeting Gansey had scheduled on the way in to Nino's, he knew whatever possible thing could have happened with Adam would not happen. Blue would become involved in all their lives, in the search for Glendower, in Adam's life.

Ronan drank more than ever to keep his dreams at bay, the birds slowly returning to his subconscious until they weren't attacking him, but each other in his mind. In a particularly notable dream, he saved the object of their attack and forgot to put it down before he gasped awake.

With a baby bird cradled in his hand.

He didn't remember going to the church or leaving for the church since he was already drunk on his way out. But with Gansey standing over him, that line between his eyebrows and the smallness of his voice at first being the only indication of his friend's worry, Ronan was relieved. He was awake. With a bird. But awake.

Still a little drunk, he said, "I found her." Because he couldn't tell the truth. 

He allowed Gansey to take him back to Monmouth and he finally found a use for the birdcage he'd dreamed months ago, thinking it held too much potential value to just throw out. He set it on the corner of his desk and kept the bird warm in his palm until he sobered up and researched how to care for baby ravens.

Ronan named her Chainsaw.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One or two more chapters left after this one! Truly thank you to everyone who has read this far - you're all wonderful


	23. Chapter 23

There were not enough words in any of the languages Ronan knew to describe how much he disliked having Blue around. She herself was not the problem - it was the way she changed Adam. When she was present, now invited to their movie nights at Monmouth, Adam only had eyes for her and it made Ronan want to vomit.

Adam moved into the apartment above St. Agnes only a few weeks ago. Sunday Masses were spent even less paying attention to the priest but involved more lingering glances at the ceiling, wondering if Adam was home, what Adam was doing, if he knew Ronan was so close. Sometimes, Ronan dared to see his brothers off and then he'd climb the staircase on the side of the church and tap on the door.

The times Adam was home, he was always sweating, using a small book as a manual fan. Ronan offered to get him a real fan but Adam said he couldn't afford it. Since he now had an entirely new expense he didn't have when he was living at home, money was tighter than ever.

Blue demanded that Gansey get some kind of sofa for Monmouth's common area because she would not be flopping around with the four of them on a bed. It was too suggestive and she didn't seem too fond of being too close to Ronan. So Ronan and Gansey went to the outlet store. Adam would have gone, but he'd picked up another shift at the trailer factory.

For hours, it was the two of them like they were a year ago, before Niall died, before Ronan became homeless, before Adam had truly joined their ranks. Ronan forgot how boyish Gansey could be when he wasn't a scholar on a mission. He forgot Gansey's dimples, his unpracticed laughter, his ridiculous boat shoes. He forgot that Gansey was and had always been his closest friend.

They were lounging on a yellow leather couch, the color of mustard, each with their footrests kicked up, eyes closed, imagining such a piece of furniture at Monmouth.

"I don't see it." Ronan said.

Gansey hummed in agreement. "But it's comfortable."

"Are we going for comfortable or for aesthetic?"

"Both. Blue wants a couch."

Ronan resisted the urge to groan at her name. "Why are we putting up with her?"

Gansey blinked open an eye. "We need her. We've never been so close." 

"So when she demands a couch you're just gonna give in? First it's a couch, next it'll be to take the fridge out of the bathroom, then she'll be telling you to get different shoes. What happens when she demands that favor?"

"You're starting to sound like Adam, always paranoid someone's watching." Gansey said. "She's just as much a part of this now as you. And if getting a couch makes her happy, that's fine."

"But why do you care?"

"Because. Adam likes her. We need her. End of discussion."

Ronan exhaled sharply, kicking his feet down. "I don't like this one." He threw himself face down on a longer dark-green-cushioned sofa.

Gansey followed, hesitantly sitting on the edge and placing his hand square on Ronan's back. "Do you need to talk?"

"About what?"

"Anything. Blue. Kavinsky. Matthew."

Ronan had been very careful to avoid this subject. Kavinsky died a little more than a week ago and Ronan felt close to nothing about it. He tried to get angry, to become sad, but all he truly knew was relief when he got Matthew back. So what if Kavinsky didn't make it out. So what if it was technically Ronan's fault. The world was better off without him and Cabeswater was stronger than ever. Kavinsky's death was a good thing, even if Ronan couldn't quite convince himself of that fact.

"No." Ronan finally said. "This one is nice."

Gansey bounced in his seat and picked up Ronan's legs to properly sit. "It is."

"We should get it."

"We should."

"Gansey, I'm tired."

Gansey sighed and rubbed his hand across Ronan's shoulders. Both of them had been awake for far too long. "Me too."

They got the couch and arranged to have it delivered the next day. Gansey was going to be doing an interview for someone on his mom's campaign team and Adam would be working. Noah made a strange vague hand gesture when Ronan asked if he'd be around to move the couch upstairs. 

By the time the couch was delivered, Ronan had just managed to put on a pair of shorts to see the truck pulling out of the lot. The couch itself was sitting off to the side, as if overlooking the stains and streaks. Declan always frowned at them like they could actively control the state of the parking lot, though admittedly it would look a lot nicer if he and Gansey hadn't done donuts so often. Usually it was Noah's idea.

It was a quiet day, the kind Ronan didn't think he'd ever treasure, but here he was almost in awe. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, took a quick pee because the toilet was right there, and went back outside. He threw his arm over the back of the new couch and relaxed. There was no sun but Ronan was pleasantly warm. He lifted his middle finger at boys from school who drove by shouting rude things. It was summer and he didn’t care. His beer was cold and when he was alone and wasn't forced to think all the damn time, he was good. Happy, almost.

One of the reasons of his unhappiness was currently stepping off her bike. She wore a plaid skirt and leggings with holes enough to make cheese jealous. Her strappy tank top was loose and her forehead and neck were shiny with sweat. She had a headband with flowers tucked into it that barely held back her hair.

Ronan shielded his eyes and squinted at her across the lot, watching her approach. "What do you want?"

"Is Adam here?" Blue asked, sounding almost as hostile as he did.

"No."

"What about Noah?"

"No."

"Gansey?"

"No."

She huffed and put her hand on her hip. "It's just you? When are they getting back?"

Ronan took a drink and wiped his mouth. "You're hurting my feelings."

For a moment, Blue looked as if she might hop back on her bike and turn off where she'd come from. But she didn't. Instead, she set her jaw and set a fist on the back of the couch. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"I'm sitting outside what does it look like I'm doing?"

She slapped his knee and he moved it to give just enough room for her to sit down. "Are you practicing for when you become a crotchety old man yelling at people on your lawn?"

Ronan cracked a smile behind his bottle. "Something like that. Do you want a beer or something?"

"Do I look 21 to you?"

"Do I?"

"According to your fake ID you do."

There was a brief silence as they considered. Ronan had divulged one of his secrets and so far it hadn't caused a lot of stress between his friends and Blue. The shock of it was more the issue than the magic itself. It didn't seem like something a person should be able to do. To will something into reality.

"This couch is going to end up inside, right?" She didn't ask it like a question. She'd seen Monmouth's current setup and Ronan was sure she was not impressed with their current interior design. He'd heard some comments about their kitchen/laundry/bathroom and found Gansey sometimes standing in the doorway, just looking at the washer and the fridge and the collection of chips. He didn't mention the times he'd overheard Gansey on the phone in the bathroom, sitting against the fridge. He knew it was Blue on the other line.

She and Adam weren't as close as they once were. Since Adam had made his sacrifice, flowers turned to him like the sun, vines crawled at his feet, and he was distant. It was another layer to him that Ronan had to figure out. He never knew how many dreams there could be about gardening.

Ronan glanced back at the building. "Eventually. Believe it or not, I can't lift a couch by myself."

"I'm surprised you didn't try with your ego."

He kicked her. Not as hard as he might have if it was Gansey or Adam. But she still snapped her glare to him and shoved his leg away. He never had sisters and she never had brothers.

"I could help you."

"No offence, but this couch weighs more than a pizza pan."

Blue scoffed. "You're an asshole. Let's try."

Ronan chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle onto the grass yard. He got up and wiped his hands on his knees. Blue was already lined up at one end.

Blue counted and they lifted. Ronan didn't think his end was particularly heavy - weight lifting certainly helped - but Blue was small, though stronger than she looked, and short and didn't have the rigorous training Ronan put himself through.

"I can do this. Let's go."

"You should go in first." Ronan said, rotating a little before the door. "Whoever's at the bottom will have more weight."

Blue's resolve firmed and she kept straight on. "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't do this."

"I didn't say that. I don't want you to slip and then be crushed underneath on the stairs with a fucking broken neck."

He saw Blue wince, only a little. She didn't say anything and kept on. Ronan swore again and swung open the door.

After some struggling, more bickering, and swears when Ronan pinched his fingers on the corner, they dropped the couch onto the floor, both sweating.

Ronan grabbed another beer and Blue sat down, testing it for comfort without six-foot-something Ronan kicking his legs at her. The cushions were warm from sitting in the sun, He came back and nudged the couch with his hip, finding it slid easily on the hard floors.

"We should move Gansey's bed."

"Just because they're gone doesn't mean you run this place. I'm still here."

"I've got some say too. Don't forget girls have opinions that matter just as much. What if you happen to get married or have a child someday-"

"That's awfully presumptuous."

"Girls with opinions or you having kids?"

Ronan curled his lip. "I'm beginning to think both. I don't want kids."

His tone didn't warrant any further questions and Blue looked somewhat chastened. 

"I don't either."

"Well good. We've bonded." He took a drink and sat harshly enough the couch scooted a few inches. "Why don't you?"

If Blue had been standing, she would have crossed her arms and popped out a hip and assumed a defensive pose. But it was hard to sound firm when she was so comfortable, her legs crossed beneath her, fingers playing at the small wisps of hair around her face. This was more sensitive to her than it was to Ronan.

"Kids should come from love. And this curse-"

"Curse?"

Blue looked at him. "Gansey didn't tell you?"

"Should he have?"

Blue clicked her tongue and turned her gaze back to the Henrietta model. "If I kiss my true love, he'll die."

"Shit."

"Yeah. So I never wanted to get my hopes up."

"It is possible," Ronan started, already regretting the sympathetic role he'd taken. "Without kissing. There's always adoption."

"I guess. But I'm still young. What about you?"

"Gay." He said before he could stop himself. When he dreamed this beer, it must have been a higher alcohol content than he intended. "Fuck." He mumbled, making a fist.

Blue turned her head sideways. Her eyes were dark and pensive. "Really?"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But you-"

"I said, maggot, I don't want to hear it. And babies are gross." He'd been practicing limiting the hostility in his voice but he'd never been successful.

Gansey bounded up the stairs in a suit and tie, looking sharp and composed as ever. "Look at you two, bonding. Isn't it great to be civil?"

"Shut up." Ronan said, still working his jaw. He got up and finished his beer, setting the bottle down next to the Henrietta water tower. He punted a soccer ball Noah found at the wall on the way to his room, calling out, "Keep it clean you two," before slamming his door.

Gansey blushed a little and reached his fingertips out to Blue, dropping a crumpled mint leaf in her hand. He pressed his thumb to his lips and said, "I'm going to change."

"Should I go?" Blue said, sneaking the mint into her mouth.

"No, no. Please. When Adam and Noah come back, we'll go looking for that cave."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok - one more chapter to go and then that's it - done! Thank you to everyone who's made it this far!


	24. Chapter 24

Of all the people Ronan expected to see at Monmouth Manufacturing, Swan was not one of them. But there he was, greasy hair and too tight clothes and Skov's outline in the car waiting in the lot. Ronan flipped on a hat backwards and spread his arms across the frame, just in case Swan got any ideas about entering uninvited.

Since Kavinsky's death, his gang had mostly fallen apart with the exception of Skov and Swan. Prokopenko, being created from Kavinsky, was useless. He'd heard a rumor that Jiang burned Proko's body and buried it but that had come from Declan so Ronan didn't know how much faith to put into it. 

"What."

Swan put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a bag of white pills. The small ones Ronan had once begged Kavinsky for. Written in marker across the top was LYNCH. "For you."

"Gee, thanks." Ronan said, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Anything else?"

"K said you could do it too." Swan said in a low voice. He looked nervously over Ronan's shoulder at Gansey who was coming to see if there was a problem. "The dream thing."

"And?"

Swan's hands were shaking. "Can you?"

In response, Ronan shut the door and waited until the boys drove away. He clutched the bag of pills in his hand until the pressure inside almost popped the bag, but Gansey touched his arm.

"What's this?"

"Leftovers." Ronan said. "Why is it so fucking hot?"

Gansey extracted the bag from Ronan's hand and tucked it into his own pocket. "It's July. And there's no central air. I'm going to be out tonight."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your phone call last night?"

Last night, Gansey spent more than an hour with his cell phone tucked close to his chin as he lay on his bed, Noah curved around his back. Ronan was awake of course, having woken with a new backpack and a wrench with a handle as long as his own arm. Gansey's voice was low and borderline flirty, poking fun at Blue's clothes and then a sudden defensive, "there's nothing wrong with my shoes, what does that mean?"

Ronan's heart surged. If Blue wasn't making late-night phone calls to Adam that had to mean they were done. But Blue and Gansey? Since she'd mentioned it, Blue's kissing curse was quite dangerous and curious. It implied of course that she was going to fall in love with a boy. It was unclear whether that meant specific true love and there was only one for her, or if it was any love as long as it was true. 

Ronan supposed he didn't hate Blue as much as he wanted to. She did help him move the couch. And he'd accidentally outed his sexuality to her before he'd even told Gansey in so many words. Though Gansey should have known - he was around when Ronan and Noah had their fling before they decided friendship was best.

"No, nothing to do with the phone call." Gansey was saying, his cheeks blushing, unaware how much Ronan had heard. "Helen has something for me and she doesn't want to drive all the way over here. Oh, and Adam asked if he could bring his laundry over tonight. There aren't any facilities in his apartment. I told him you'd be here so don't go anywhere."

"Hey, what about me?" Noah asked, emerging from his room. Since the discovery of his deadness, Ronan asked in swears that Noah at least act like he was alive and give some warning before he appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the piss out of Ronan on more than one occasion.

Gansey grinned. "You either."

Noah pursed his lips and dropped his cold hand on top of Ronan's head. His eyes widened. "I might disappear actually."

"Noah," Ronan said, as close to pleading as he could manage. The last thing he needed was a single Adam in close proximity doing laundry without any supervision. Ronan tended to do stupid things when he was unsupervised. He glanced at his scarred wrist and the leather bracelets Adam had given him.

"I'm actually going to be leaving soon."

And five minutes later, Adam was standing with a laundry basket in Gansey's place. Ronan watched as Adam's beautiful hands picked through his pants pockets one last time to catch any spare change he missed and measure out soap. He blushed too hard, lifting his hat to scratch at his buzzed hair when Adam asked if he could shower here. 

While listening to Adam hum quietly while waiting for the spin cycle to start, Ronan fed Chainsaw broken pieces of chips and was trying to teach her to fetch. He tried not to think about Adam in his naked form on the other side of the door, taking some time for himself. Oh Lord, Ronan thought, when he remembered the last time he'd been in the shower, he'd jerked off quickly and now Adam could be doing the very same thing.

Unlikely, Ronan decided. He laid back on Gansey's bed, propping himself up with pillows and stared at the ceiling, petting a finger over Chainsaw's feathers. Adam opened the door a few minutes later and hung his towel on the doorknob.

"I used a towel, sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize for that." 

Adam combed his fingers through his damp hair and shook it a little. Ronan didn't notice where a book had come from, likely Gansey's desk, but Adam was crawling up between his legs. 

Ronan couldn't breathe.

At the last second, Adam turned and settled back into Ronan's chest. Adam started reading casually and Ronan tried not to breathe too deeply or think about Adam's collar bones or his knees or his ankles or his mouth.

"Is this ok?" Adam asked without moving. "Do you want anything?"

"No." Ronan said, daring to drape a hand around Adam's shoulder.

He'd seen Adam put his head into laps before, always seeking a casual contact. This was nothing new, Ronan told himself. This isn't special. This is just like Noah.

But Noah wasn't warm like this.

It was a start.

Adam elbowed his leg. "Would you relax?"

"I can't."

"Oh." Adam said, marking his place with a finger. "Do you have a situation to take care of?" He paused. "In your pants?"

"Fuck no." Ronan said, louder than he intended just to make sure Adam heard it over his laughter. "You asshole."

"Then stop moving." Adam said, settling back, hooking an arm over Ronan's leg. A touch of his accent swayed Ronan to sit still. "This counts as my nap time."

"You could have used a blanket."

Chainsaw fluttered over and landed on Adam's knee.

"Yeah, but you're warm."

"It's the middle of fucking summer, Parrish."

As he spoke, a small vine blooming with small white flowers crept up onto the bed and twirled itself between Adam's bare toes. Ronan had never seen a plant move as if it were sentient. Like it knew that this marvelous thing was Adam Parrish. 

This was the magic of Cabeswater.

"It will keep doing this if you give it a while." Adam said normally, like this happened to him regularly. It probably did.

Chainsaw pecked at the flowers and gave up, heading for a broken house from the Henrietta model that she'd been tearing apart. 

The vine snaked up his arm and loped around his fingers and into his hair while Adam read. Ronan was absolutely mesmerized, seeing sprouts come from nothing, forming into a loose crown around Adam's head. Ronan had never been more attracted to this - this peace among simple magic. The same kind that had fascinated him as a child. The same kind that had produced Aurora and Matthew.

Matthew was a truth Ronan had struggled with. Declan pulled him aside after church one Sunday after Kavinsky died and said to use Kavinsky as a warning. If Ronan died, Matthew would have the same fate as Aurora and Proko. 

It made sense when Ronan thought about it. He'd never liked Declan. Matthew was his.

"Parrish, your plants are creeping up on me." Ronan said, jerking sharply away from a loose tendril trying to weave through the bracelets at Ronan's wrist.

Adam sighed and kept reading. "I learned not to fight them. They'll do what they want."

The vine curled around ticklish and followed the line of Ronan's scar. Small delicate flowers bloomed at the ugliest pieces, where his skin was once torn and healed in rough patches.

"What do you want, Parrish?" Ronan whispered because he'd suspected that Adam had stopped reading a while ago and was maybe trying to nap like he'd indicated.

"This is enough."

"Then control your damn plants."

"Do you want them to stop?"

"No."

"Then shut your damn mouth."

Adam's laundry finished not long after and Ronan couldn't bring himself to wake Adam. The boy slept like a brick - Ronan had wriggled out of the plants connecting them and let Adam flop gracelessly to his side when Ronan finally disentangled his last foot. Ronan watched as the tiny blooms turned their faces toward the dying sun and receded for the evening. In their place, pale yellow dots like fireflies drifted up, glowing with faint light, fading out as they fell again.

It was beautiful and Ronan forced himself to look away.

This was enough. His presence was enough. Adam was always enough. 

That night, Ronan dreamt of a clear sparkling lake, skipping flat stones across the surface, and Adam at his side, fully rested, his hands healed and his veins bleeding vines. 

Ronan woke with his lips tingling with the memory of a kiss not turned reality and a single white flower in his hand. He tucked it into Adam's soft hair in the morning before Adam woke and didn't say anything. As he did so, from Adam's garden grown into the sheets, a new vine crept around into a loop, blooming with soft pink petals in a crown. A gift. Ronan plucked it free and set it on his own forehead. A gift. From Cabeswater.

This was okay. Ronan folded Adam's clothes as nicely as he could, humming a small song to himself. He wanted nothing more.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh this is it! It's over! Thank you so much to all the readers and whoever left kudos or commented - truly it's been lovely and I'm so grateful. I have an idea for another fic later on (with much more actual pynch, believe me) so if you're interested, check back in a couple weeks. Really I can't thank you enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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